Legendary
by demonsshade
Summary: Amaranthine. The Architect. Darius Caron. Because of one man's actions, these names will forever be tied together by history. But why? What of the abomination? The deaths of thousands? Who was Caron, truly? Sequel to Righteous Vendetta. On hiatus forever.
1. Prologue: Power

_And here is the sequel to Righteous Vendetta. Though it is not required to read Possession and RV to understand this story, as it centers upon Awakening, I would recommend doing so as I plan on tying the three stories together quite a bit. To fully understand the nature of some of my protagonists (and to not reveal one of the biggest spoilers in my stories), you'd need to have read my last two stories. However, if you simply don't care, then don't bother. I'm sure you'll enjoy Legendary anyway._

_This time I am using a different style than my last story. I like experimentation, so I'll be messing around with the way I tell this story until I get comfortable with a certain type. Also, upon request of one of my readers, I will be involving companions POV much more than I have in the past. Basically, all the Awakening characters will have a POV, their own feelings, emotions, etc. all based upon who they are in the actual expansion pack. I hate going out of character, so I'll be sure not to do so._

_This is my own novelization of events in Awakening, with my own twists and sub-plots added in for good measure. I have considerably less time for myself than I used to, but I can still promise one or two chapters a week, each about 4000 words long. Anyway, this is Legendary, the story of Darius Caron, Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I hope you enjoy it._

**Prologue: Power**

Humans were so amusing.

It was fair to say the same of dwarves and elves, but nothing fascinated him like the minds of these strange, varied creatures known as humans.

Maybe he was bias? He used to be human, after all. No longer, however. He couldn't think as they do, act as they do, live as they do. For he had touched the mind of demons, he had seen the other side. He had found truths so profound none other had even discovered the need to search for them.

Adrian curled his lip, smirking as he gazed into the valley below. A small caravan struggled in the storm against the muddy road, tiny figures shouting orders, heaving and cursing, falling and swearing. A mother with a baby sat inside the wagon, slightly worried expression adorning her face.

To think he used to be one of these insignificant creatures! He used to care as a human did. Love as a human did. He used to find death so terrifying, but now it was simply an inconvenient impossibility.

Sometimes a human would impress him. One in particular, a tanned man who appeared to be from Orlais, had readily taken charge of the group, issuing orders to excavate the struggling wagon efficiently. A deepstalker followed him obediently, like a trained dog. The other members of the band kept a cautious eye on the creature, yet trusted it enough not to be scared. The owner, that tanned man, was a powerful person, Adrian knew. Despite being Orlesian, despite owning a dangerous animal, these Ferelden men still followed him. He was a man born to lead, a man born to do great things. Birthright seemed to do so much, these days.

Of course, then Adrian would be reminded it was humans that had pushed him down for being a mage. They had denied him the power of a god out of fear. What fear should they even possess? They were insignificant – some even readily admitted it was so – yet they struggled to make their lives mean something. That was why they were interesting.

Humans relied upon hypocrisy. Lies. Falsehoods. Unnecessary niceties formed the basis of their civilization. They asked for respect despite the utter uselessness of such a trivial notion. They eagerly preferred comfort in life over basic survival. Why? What use was grandiosity in the shape of men fighting men for control of land, or power, or wealth? What use was a soft bed when you'd need a sword in the heart to use it?

And so Adrian watched, confused. He had once been such a creature? He had once thought as they did? No. He had been a mage once, a human evolved beyond normalcy. He had always been above them, yet he was kept below by their insecurities.

That was before he found The Demon. Through The Demon's death, Adrian had found truth. He had found peace. He had found power – true power, capable of leveling cities, of leveling mountains, of leveling continents!

He had spat in the face of god and had been rewarded.

Adrian laughed, clapping his hands together as the wagon wheel popped free of the mud, as a man fell face first into the dirt as a result of the lost tension. These people were miserable, yet they pressed forward, onward to a human settlement known as Amaranthine. Why? Adrian cared not, but he would follow these intriguing creatures for days yet.

He looked at their campfires, their conversations. He listened to their stories, to their drunken chatter. Adrian would smile gleefully as the one woman would laugh occasionally, a voice elegant and light. It gave him memories of a time not spent, a life not led. An existence without The Demon.

But he had no regrets. A life not lived was better than a life lived in misery and weakness. Those with power, abominations like Adrian, would rather be slain than be weak. Power was all that mattered, yet still he was drawn to these creatures. He could watch them for hours, silently gazing from a hidden perch in a tree, or looking up from below rushing water, or staring down as he sailed the skies as a hawk.

It was irrational, but Adrian knew it must be so. Without irrationality, these creatures would have nothing. They would not be so tight knit or distant. They would not love or hate. They would not vilify or accept. They would only gaze from a distance, watching irrationality and being amused.

No longer could he laugh amongst them. No longer could he feel their touches. No longer could he see through their eyes. No longer could he be ignorant and blissful. No longer could he joke as they did, hope as they did, lust as they did. No longer could he love as they did.

Yet Adrian could not pull his eyes from these creatures, elegant and beautiful that they were.

He had spat in the face of god and had been punished.

ooo

Darius shrugged the cloak onto his shoulders, still trying to empty his mind of the events of the day before. Tez trotted beside him, gazing about cautiously. Both were too wary to risk another ambush by the darkspawn.

"We got too relaxed, eh Tez?" Darius glanced down at his deepstalker companion. "No more drinking before battle. For either of us."

Tez chirped back in what seemed to be an annoyed and someone disappointed tone. Tez liked drinking, after all. Darius couldn't blame him.

"They're all dead..." Darius said softly, staring up at the sky as he walked, unsuccessfully trying to clear his head. Tez chirped sadly in response. "It's not like we had known them for incredible amounts of time, but they were just beginning to trust us. They liked you from the beginning, though."

Tez chirped again, running ahead slightly. Darius fell back into his thoughts, his memories of the battle with the darkspawn. They had ambushed them in the night in a strangely coordinated attack. Darius could hardly keep one or two pinned down with their unconscious strategy, leaving all too much room open for the rest to slaughter Darius' companions.

"Maybe it would have been better if we stayed in the Warden's Keep?" Darius wondered absentmindedly. Tez chirped angrily, drawing a faint chuckle from the Orlesian. "You're right. The others would be dead whether we stayed behind or not. The only difference would be that I would not have known about it. Maker, I wish that Vigil's Keep was not as far away as it is."

The two kept walking in silence as Darius reflected on the ambush wearily. All of Darius' fellow members of the caravan had been killed by darkspawn. He had failed in his duties as a Warden, which was not a good start for his new commission as Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

"You think the First Warden made a mistake in appointing me?" Darius muttered to Tez, who was busy sniffing the ground with its odd, worm-like head. It popped to attention at the question, gazing backwards. "You're right again. I shouldn't be so hard on myself. There was nothing I can do."

Darius surveyed the land about him. Now that he left the valley behind him, along with the charred and mutilated corpses of those he called his traveling companions, he could finally see the landscape of Amaranthine, the land he'd be spending more time than he thought necessary in.

But the First Warden cannot be denied. When Darius was called to serve as Warden-Commander of Ferelden – despite being Orlesian, Darius thought grimly – he didn't complain. He had to repay his debt to the country somehow, considering he didn't even fight in the Blight.

It should have been him who died in the final battle, not Riordan. Still, Darius knew there was nothing he could do about it now. Considering the mysterious nature in which the Archdemon died, there had been rumors that it was Riordan who struck the final blow instead of Adrian, despite eyewitness reports of the contrary (of Arl Eamon in particular).

Tez chirped, driving Darius from his thoughts. The deepstalker pointed towards a distant cloud system. Another storm was coming hot on the heels of the last. Wonderful.

"We're not getting a peaceful night tonight, Tez." The deepstalker made a low growling noise, signaling his disapproval. Both knew of the inconveniences of the open road well, however.

This wasn't shaping up to be the best of journeys.

ooo

Darius sat near the entrance of the make-shift shelter. Tez coiled up against him, sleeping soundly. All around him nature roared in protest at the torrential rains. Thunder resounded from above as Darius stared into the blackness outside, hoping he wouldn't sense any danger. Despite this, he had his weapons ready and his armor on. You can never be too careful.

The lean-to he had built was shabby at best – a life of living in Orlesian luxury can do that to a Grey Warden, Darius thought – yet he dared not move from it. Water pooled in the most inconvenient places, but luckily it didn't flood. Tez didn't seem to mind, but he was a hardy creature. Tez would adjust to anything, Darius knew. It made him proud to be one of the few, if any, humans who called a deepstalker a pet. They were dangerous animals, after all. Dangerously useful, at least.

Darius leaned back, putting his hands behind him as he stared outside. He thought of his time as the commander of Warden's Keep, which had been reclaimed after a Warden had repaired the veil. Avernus, despite being a subject of much controversy among the Wardens, had been left in charge after Darius accepted the position as Warden-Commander.

Darius' hands slipped on the wet ground when he shifted his weight. Falling back, Darius accidentally pushed his deepstalker pet, who growled in protest. As Darius regained his position, however, Tez stared into the darkness, its gaze focused on a single point in the night, though Darius could not see anything.

"What is it, boy?" Darius patted its head softly, but the deepstalker only began to growl. Then he felt the taint.

Darius had barely rolled out of the lean-to when an ogre's fist smashed into it, shattering the shelter. Tez barked as it barely escaped, rushing into the darkness at their assailant.

Drawing his sword, Darius could only tell the ogre's location from the taint within him. Still, it was only a rough estimate. Tez would be more accurate in gauging where it was, as the creature could see in the dark, but Darius knew he could not rely upon a deepstalker to take down an ogre.

"If only I'd adopted a bronto." Darius sarcastically smirked, not truly meaning it, drawing his second sword. He rushed ahead, following Tez's chirping. Through the occasional lightning strike, Darius saw the Ogre, fearsome creature that it was.

Standing over 10 feet tall, the massive creature swung at Darius in still-frame, its blows barely missing Darius as he tried to attack in the darkness. The Ogre was oddly inaccurate, its blows barely even reaching the Warden as he jumped away from its blows. Darkspawn were supposed to be able to see in the dark, which would have given this thing the advantage.

The Warden-Commander struck out as the next fist came down, slashing straight through. The darkspawn withdrew quickly, roaring and taking the sword with it. Swearing, Darius charged forward, slashing at where he though its legs were, yet missed.

The Ogre's fist nipped his shoulder, sending Darius to the ground. Before it could finish him, Darius heard Tez growl and the ogre shriek. Knowing Tez was in danger of being dashed against the ground, Darius threw his second sword in the direction he had last seen the Ogre.

Its scream showed he had been accurate. Another flash of lightning and Darius saw the blade stick from its chest, Tez running towards safety with no injuries. The Warden-Commander darted forward, jumping onto the chest of the creature, desperately grabbing for his sword. Luckily, he found a hold, drawing the sword out and again in its chest, driving it deep into its torso.

The Ogre roared, its fist batting Darius off its chest. The Warden rolled as he hit the ground, retrieved sword in hand. The darkspawn charged, a flash of lightning revealing its killing intent, but also its injuries. In addition to Darius' sword wound, an unknown dagger stuck out from its thigh, and its eyes were scarred white. It was blind.

"It's been wounded before..." Darius mumbled, recognizing the dagger as the fancy weapon the only women in his caravan had carried. The ogre was one of the darkspawn that ambushed his party!

Anger rising in his stomach, Darius rolled forward, between where he thought its legs were, stabbing upwards. He felt blade strike flesh and drive through, blood squirting on the Warden as he stood, turning, stabbing into its back before it could turn.

The Ogre roared again, dropping to its knees. Darius drew his blade from its back, aiming higher. Blade broke flesh again and again as Darius stabbed it, the Ogre weakening with every strike. Finally it fell, its massive form stumbling into the muddy road. Darius, knowing the regenerative powers of these Ogres, drew his second sword from its hand, feeling for the creature's head.

He chopped, cutting into the creatures neck. Blood flew out as the ogre shuttered from the blow. Darius sawed through skin and bone, eventually severing head from body. Satisfied, the Warden threw the head as far to the side as he could, hoping Ogres couldn't regenerate heads... or that heads couldn't regenerate bodies.

"We're no longer safe here, Tez." Darius shouted as his deepstalker pet approached. The Warden stood, sheathing his swords. If there was one darkspawn, there was bound to be more about. Unluckily for the Orlesian, that meant traveling in torrential rains and little light.

Darius swore as he marched in the direction Tez chirped from, using the deepstalker as a guide in the impenetrable darkness. Hopefully he wouldn't get trench foot from the wet.

Night wore into dawn slowly, too slowly for the tired Warden's taste. Warden's Keep had made him complacent, he realized. Back in the army in Orlais, he was trained to be able to march for two days straight. Grey Wardening had actually decreased his endurance. Probably the Taint's fault.

Oh, how he wished he was in Orlais again. He thought Ferelden was a bad idea. No. He knew it was bad. Nobody here would like him, the darkspawn were everywhere and, even in the middle of nowhere, it smelled like wet dog.

Darius again wandered into his thoughts, finding them considerable more interesting than the empty scenery about him, only now becoming bathed in the faint light of pre-dawn. Suddenly he missed the caravan, with their jovial laughter and incessant storytelling. Even their suspicion of him for being Orlesian seemed alluring now. But one cannot simply turn back the clock. One cannot simply bring back the dead.

Tiredness filled his limbs, his strides becoming shorter and shorter. Eventually he stopped altogether, Tez chirping in protest.

"It's all right, boy. I just need a bit of rest." Darius smiled faintly as his eyelids started drooping. He wandered past the edge of the road, examining the countryside around him for any sign of danger. Seeing nothing, he lay on the grass, closing his eyes slowly.

Tez coiled up next to him, head extended to survey the surroundings about them, ready to alert Darius to any sign of danger. In seconds, the Warden was asleep.

ooo

_"Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, our next fight will have you on your toes, hanging to the edge of your seats, salivating at the very thought of the mystery of who will emerge victorious!" The announcer started, exciting the crowd into a frenzy._

_ "He really knows how to appeal to a fool's need for bloodshed." Darius remarked dryly to his trainer. "You know anything about my next opponent?"_

_ "Only that he was kicked out of Orzammar for killing so many men the guards became scared of him." The coach grinned back, handing Darius his swords. "No sweat, eh?"_

_ "Right. Championship rounds are always easy. Don't let me forget that." Darius rolled his eyes, sheathing the blades._

_ "Raje Kader and Darius Caron! Two of the strongest fighters of the age will be pit together in a mortal lock for their very survival!" The announcer shouted. Darius sighed as he stood, knowing his cue. "Both will enter this ring and only one will leave alive! Who will it be? Place your bets now, for betting time is over as soon as the match starts!"_

_ Darius walked slowly towards the tunnel leading to the ring. His coach patted him on the back, encouraging him relentlessly. 'You'll wipe the floor with him!' he says, but Darius knows it will not be so easy._

_ He walked into the sunlight, temporarily blinded by the bright sun. The crowd cheered at the sight of him, and again as the dwarf emerged into the light across from him. His opponent was a dark skinned dwarf with tattoos covering the entirety of his face. The rest of him was covered in heavy plate armor, a vicious and scarred greataxe gripped in his hands._

_ "And we have our champions! Before you stands two mighty men, yet only one will leave alive! Who will it be?" The announcer shouted, riling up the crowd into a crazed frenzy. Darius drew his swords, gesturing at the dwarf across from him._

_ "Your a pretty one, ain't ya, girl face? Your a noble, I bet. I'll cut that damned pretty neck straight through, human." Raje laughed, a horrid gurgling sound, only adding to Darius' growing revulsion to the man. "Feed your sparkling eyes to the crows, that I will. Just you wait."_

_ "Can't resist the opportunity." Darius would have rebutted, but then the bell rang, signaling the start of the fight._

_ The dwarf charged forward, greataxe raised. Darius parried his strike easily, deflecting the weight of the blow to the side. Two slashes from Darius' blades impacted the dwarf's armor, but didn't so much as scratch it._

_ "It's white steel, pretty boy." The dwarf laughed, swinging his axe towards Darius, who nimbly dodged backwards. "Those tiny blades won't do anything to the finest metalwork in all Orzammar."_

_ The crowd cheered every time a blow was readied, only to fall silent as the two fighters retreated from each other, glaring fiercely in search of an opening. Darius knew there was no way to get through this dwarf's armor, but it also probably weighed an incredible amount. If he could hold out for long enough, hopefully the dwarf's constitution would slowly wear down, eventually allowing Darius to make a killing blow._

_ Such was the nature of tournaments, Darius thought as he parried an overhead axe strike with both his swords. You ruthlessly slaughter your opponent in order to move yourself forward. Phallus-enhancing activities indeed, but Darius found he rather enjoyed it._

_ There was a thrill to facing uncertain death. Whether it was on the battlefield of war, a tourney, or a simple expedition into the unknown, Darius loved to flirt with death. He reveled in it. There was no point if there wasn't a challenge, and he hadn't killed so many people just to waste a spectacular fight with a blood-crazed dwarf._

_ "Stand still, boy!" Raje shouted, echoing the frustrations Darius knew the dwarf felt. "I can't be separating any limbs if you're jumping about!"_

_ Darius parried a swing, dashing forward and to the side, slamming his swords into Raje's dominant hand. As the white steel armor rung from the impact, Raje yelled, temporarily stunned by the pain. Hopefully, Darius had broken his arm, but luck usually wasn't on his side._

_ All the better, then._

_ The crowd still cheered, a wall of noise Darius found himself descending away from, his senses becoming muted until all he saw was the dwarf, his axe, all the deadly blows that could be and had been. He didn't simply see Raje. He felt him. He thought him. He knew him._

_ Darius parried a strike with his off hand, pivoting while swinging his right sword as a distraction. He sprinted to the other side of the field, pivoting again to see the dwarf come on in attack, placing his back to the cement boundary wall._

_ "Damned human! Die like you're supposed to!" Raje yelled as he charged, his short legs not giving him much speed, but his frame allowed for plenty of power. The dwarf raised his axe overhead, but Darius recognized the feint. The dwarf was going to swing through the side, not over his head._

_ Darius stood still, longswords held at ready as the dwarf came on, shouting a slightly incomprehensible and thoroughly dirty war cry, much to the dismay of the ears of the sensitive noble ladies sitting outside of the arena._

_ As Raje finally neared enough to swing, Darius rushed forward, going inside the swing. Not expecting that move, Raje tried to counter, but only found Darius' fist slamming into his face. The dwarf stumbled backwards, stunned, but Darius did not let up._

_ Striking Raje's hands, Darius knocked Raje's greataxe out of them. Raje swore in pain as he regained his senses, only to realize that he had no weapon and Darius' sword was at his neck._

_ "Kill me then, pretty boy." Raje grinned, exposing his dirty and holey set of teeth. The crowd had gone silent, waiting in anticipation for the final blow. "These Orlesians all wish it. They want to see my head roll across this ground. So do it."_

_ "I expected more." Darius said unemotionally, leveling his second sword in front of Raje's neck as well, forming a sort of gruesome scissors. "Are you truly a legendary murderer who escaped justice in Orzammar, or is that just publicity?"_

_ "What is true, pretty boy?" Raje cackled, smiling still. "What does truth in the face of death? Your blade is at my neck, so follow through. End my life. Do the right thing."_

_ "Are you so eager to die?" The crowd was starting to murmur now, wondering why Darius hadn't yet struck Raje down._

_ "I've seen many things in my lifetime." Raje finally stopped smiling, staring into Darius' eyes. "I've seen a village fall to darkspawn and undead, I've seen wives beaten and raped. I've seen all that makes this world a vast pile of your Maker's shit. Dying is a relief."_

_ Darius paused, glancing into the stands around him, the faces of eager, confused nobles wishing to see the death of this dwarf. They wanted to see a man die to satiate their own blood lust._

_ "No." Darius slowly pulled his swords away, walking away from the dwarf. Raje's expression was one of shock and horror, a face a man gets when denied the greatest pleasure. In a way, Darius felt guilty. Guilty for saving his life._

_ "Damn you, human!" Darius turned as he heard the axe come down. He parried the blow instinctively, knocking the axe aside again, swinging his sword forward before Raje could retract his weapon. Without meaning to do so, Darius' sword sliced into and through his neck cleanly, sending a spray of blood to the side._

_ The crowd erupted into cheers at the sudden event. Darius stared in shock at the smiling dwarf's head as it flew into the air, coming to rest a few feet away. The body wavered for a second, unable to support itself without control of its muscles. It slumped forward, blood squirting on Darius' leather armor, onto his face._

_ Darius just stood, shocked at what he had done. Raje wasn't a blood-fettered warrior of legendary renown. He was a fake seeking his own death, a death Darius had given him purely out of instinct. This wasn't battle. This wasn't uncertain death. This was murder._

_ His coach gave empty words of congratulations as he ran out, hugging Darius and patting him on the back enthusiastically. Darius didn't hear them, brushing his coach aside, sheathing his bloody swords._

_ He walked out of the arena, not even bothering to claim his prize. He walked into the streets of Val Royeaux, ignoring the stares of those around him, of curious or frightened people wondering why a bloodstained man in armor was invading their privacy by being near them while so dirty._

_ These people, Orlesians just as Darius was, did not understand life or death. They played petty games with each other, unknowing or uncaring of the consequences upon others. They struggled for power, always for more power, without first understanding the requirements for managing such a transient and ephemeral thing._

_ "Darius Caron?" The blood stained man turned, unsure why this voice out of so many had broken him from his concentration. A man stood there, a Rivaini if looks were to be the judge. He looked strong, capable, confident, but also quite a few years older than Darius was._

_ "What?" Darius snapped, folding his arms in front of him._

_ "My name is Duncan, of the order of the Grey Wardens." Duncan said slowly, seriously, measured. "I have an offer, one which I will force upon you whether you choose so or not."_

ooo

The Warden-Commander of Amaranthine opened his eyes slowly, cursing himself for sleeping so long. Tez was growling beside him, staring towards the road. Turning, and startled by what he saw, Darius drew his blades, gesturing them at the woman who had appeared before him.

"Peace, friend." The armored woman said, glancing back and forth between the deep stalker and the Grey Warden. "I come from Vigil's Keep, I was supposed to seek you out and guide you."

"Peace, huh?" Darius sheathed his blades, nudging Tez to get him to stop growling. "You a Grey Warden?"  
"No. Not yet." Mhairi shook her head, gesturing down the road. "We should get moving soon, so as to get to the keep before nightfall. There are a large number of people waiting eagerly for your arrival."

"Right." Darius grabbed his satchel, nudging Tez as he walked towards the road. "Not like it matters. Nothing's going to happen to the Keep just because I'm a little late, right?"


	2. Sacrifice

_'Sup. Anyway, this is chapter 1. One little thing I want to mention is that I generally don't get a lot of critiquing reviews. I want to rectify this._

_I don't want ANYTHING positive to be said about this chapter. If you review, PLEASE criticize me. I want to know what you think I'm doing bad, what you think needs to be fixed, what you don't like, etc. But don't be like "Your story sucks. Bye." I want actual criticism. The reason for this is because I want to get better as a writer, and this won't happen if I don't get criticism._

_Thank you!_

**Chapter 1: Sacrifice**

"Why a deepstalker? Why not a less dangerous and unpredictable pet?" Mhairi asked, casually trying to make conversation with her superior. "Deepstalkers aren't the garden-variety pet, after all. I've heard stories about how packs of them can take down bears, or even drakes."

Darius was not a talkative man, that much she had figured out in the few hours she had been traveling with him. He was Orlesian too, but Mhairi tried to push thoughts of his ethnicity to the back of her mind. They were unnecessary.

"Deepstalkers are proud creatures." Darius answered simply. He had a deep voice, Mhairi thought absently. His eyes weren't slanted either, which was odd for an Orlesian. "They are not afraid of cooperation, but also know how to survive on their own when cut off from familiar faces. I didn't choose him, though. He came to me."

"Tez..." Mhairi rolled the exotic name off her tongue. "Why name him that?"

"Short for Tezpadam, the dwarven name for deepstalker." Darius again answered curtly. Mhairi cocked her head slightly, intrigued by her commander.

She had always heard tales of the mighty Grey Wardens, invincible warriors and powerful tacticians. Single-handedly, they were said to be capable of taking down even ogres. Only the best, the elite, became one of them, chosen as they are from pools of the greatest candidates. They were the best man could offer in intelligence and physique, and that had regaled Mhairi since the time of her childhood. Ever the thought had teased her mind, for what did perfection look like?

"What do you mean by 'He came to you'?" Mhairi asked, continuing her barrage of questions. If Darius was annoyed by her constant probing, he didn't show it.

In fact, the older man hadn't shown much emotion at all in the past few hours. Occasionally Tez would growl or chirp and Darius would seem as if he was listening intently to each note, though Mhairi could hardly tell one apart from the other. That was the most emotion she'd get out of him.

"I found him half a year ago, shortly after the end of the Blight." Darius paused, as if considering his words carefully, before continuing. "I had just started serving as Commander at Soldier's Peak when he turned up wounded in one of the tunnels. I decided not to kill him because he was completely unafraid of me, even when injured. I admired such strength."

Mhairi opened her mouth, only to close it. The Orlesian and the deepstalker had a bond, one not normally seen between a vicious animal and a civilized human. Weren't these things mindless? Deepstalkers weren't known to be anything but hive-minded creatures with no object on their minds but their continued survival. There certainly was something to these Grey Wardens, if they could find such strength in the most unlikely of places, and to befriend such unpredictable animals.

_And I shall be one soon enough._ Mhairi thought, withholding a smile. After all these years of work, all this time of training in order to serve the Wardens, she was almost there. She had discarded her life, her merchant husband, everything she had known, in order to better serve Ferelden.

"Where are you from, Commander?" Mhairi asked as politely as she could. She knew it was poor manners of her to pry into the personal life of her superior after only knowing him a few hours, but she found herself intrigued by this dark skinned Orlesian.

"Born and raised in Val Royeaux. Before I was recruited, I only left the city for tournaments, or to study under some tutor or another." Darius said slowly, his gaze still snapped forward towards the horizon. "I was trained in politics, in fighting, in everything a noble should know, for that was what I was supposed to be."

"Supposed to be?" Mhairi asked before thinking. She saw Darius cast an eye her way, likely a sign of her pressing too hard. "Sorry. It's not my place to ask such questions, commander."

"No. It isn't."

ooo

"Where is everyone?" Mhairi glanced about nervously, struggling to examine the darkness that surrounded them. She could see the outline of Vigil's Keep in front of her, but all she heard was silence.

"This doesn't feel right." Mhairi could see Darius narrow his gaze slightly, focusing on the gates ahead of them. "Tez, find a scent of something, or anything."

The deepstalker chirped in response, running forward into the darkness. Mhairi wondered how the creature instinctively knew what Darius wanted it to do, but her thoughts were cut short when a scream broke the silence of the night air. Darius whirled in direction of the sound, both swords appearing in his hands. Mhairi drew her own, leveling her shield nervously.

"Help me! Please!" Darius rushed forward as soon as Mhairi had heard the voice. Hesitating slightly, she charged after him, trying to ignore the fear rising in her stomach.

Slightly ahead, in the illumination of torchlight, Mhairi saw a man pinned against a wall, struggling to fight off three short, deformed, green skinned creatures. Genlocks.

Mhairi froze, realizing the darkspawn for what they were. She had heard the stories of them, she understood their terrifying legacy, but now that she was actually within eyesight... One turned, gazing directly at her and, despite being nearly thirty feet away and protected by heavy dragonscale heavy armor, she felt vulnerable.

At least until Darius' sword burst through its chest, spraying the ground in front of it with its tainted blood. The grass withered and died at the touch of it, and Mhairi took a step backwards, fear overwhelming her senses.

"Mhairi! Behind you!" She turned at Darius' voice, just fast enough to bring her shield up. A hurlock's wicked scimitar clanged into her shield, the unexpectedly heavy blow knocking her backwards a few steps.

Now that she was staring a darkspawn directly in the eye, the fear was paralyzing. Mhairi shuddered, her gaze locked with that of the hurlock's. Twisted, gnarled grey flesh adorned the creature, its unnaturally wide mouth displaying a proud set of wickedly sharp teeth, decorating its horrific smile.

"Snap out of it, Mhairi!" She heard Darius yell, just in time to force her to raise her sword, barely managing to parry the hurlock's next attack.

Mhairi couldn't think. She could hardly breath. There was no strategy in her movements, just basic survival. How could she fight such a creature? It was easily a foot taller than her!

"I-I can't..." Mhairi tried to shout back, but her words were interrupted by the descending blade of the hurlock's, chasing her off of the path and into the grass. Its smile held strong, taunting her with imminent death.

At least until Darius' blades drove through its chest, the two large gashes tearing through its torso before ripping to the side, tearing the creature in two. Mhairi stood shocked, her sword still elevated as if to defend herself. She tried to thank him, but her words caught in her mouth, her eyes locked on the now-dead horror in front of her.

"Come on." Darius said simply, rushing back towards the keep. The soldier Darius had saved from the genlocks had since run off out of fear. He likely made the smart choice. Suddenly, Mhairi didn't feel like a warrior. She was just a scared little girl. Still, she followed beyond the walls of the keep, and she could hear the darkspawn around her before she saw them.

"I'll get the Ogre, you focus on helping survivors!" And Darius had run off to the side, leaving Mhairi alone. What? There was an ogre here?

"HELP!" Mhairi tore herself from her thoughts, running towards the shriek. She jumped up a few stairs, coming face to face with three genlocks besieging an unarmored man.

Mhairi hesitated before running forward, and in that moment a genlock plunged its sword into the man's gut, twisting and wrenching before pulling it free. The man stared in horror as his lifeblood splashed onto the ground in front of him.

"No!" Mhairi rushed forward, her sword slamming into a genlock skull, tearing a wide gash and felling the creature. She had killed one... She killed one!

He victory was short lived, as the two remaining creatures pressed onto her, their twisted gazes peering into her mind as they swung their blades at her.

Mhairi blocked one strike from the genlock on the left, which held a sword and shield. She stabbed forward, slicing its right arm open, forcing it to drop its sword. She slammed it with her shield, catching the creature in the face. Building confidence, Mhairi slashed forward, driving her sword deep into the neck of the weaponless darkspawn.

"Yes!" Mhairi shouted as blade tore through flesh, ending the creature's life. The other darkspawn backed away, surprised by the quick dispatch of its allies. Mhairi turned towards it as she wrenched her sword free. Not fast enough, as Tez pounced on its back, tearing flesh from bone as the genlock shrieked, trying to free itself from the worm-like jaws of the creature.

Mhairi stepped forward slowly, bringing her sword down on the back on the genlock's head easily. It stopped trashing and Tez bounded away to rejoin his master. Mhairi followed, searching the darkness for her commander.

"Mhairi! Into the courtyard!" She turned, following the voice. Apparently Darius had taken care of whatever Ogre there was. Alone. Was he truly that powerful?

ooo

He moved too fast to be human. Two swords whisked back and forth, ripping into darkspawn, easily creating corpses. Mhairi felt weak, struggling as she was as to hold off a single hurlock as Darius slashed left and right, easily taking down any that crossed his path.

This was a Grey Warden.

Darius leaped, plunging a sword into a shriek and taking the head off a hurlock at the same time. He was at his feet just as quickly, easily holding his ground against four darkspawn. Mhairi finally finished the hurlock, stabbing her own sword into its chest, but by the time she reached Darius, the four darkspawn were already dead.

"How..." Mhairi started, but Darius was already moving ahead, sprinting towards the entrance to Vigil's Keep, slipping under the portcullis, Tez on his heels. Mhairi followed, exhaustion already starting to wear on her. Darius didn't even show signs of tiring. Did Mhairi even have what it takes to be a Grey Warden?

She followed Darius as he ran into a large, somewhat rectangular room just past the portcullis. The Warden-Commander rushed to the right, leaping up the stairs three at a time. Yanking a door ahead of him open, Mhairi just barely managed to keep up.

But as they walked through the room, they were greeted with a strange sight indeed. Five darkspawn lay in a circle around a blue garbed mage as he bent over a templar corpse, talking to himself quietly. Darius stood quietly, arms folded, until the mage turned his head, noticing the two intruders. He jumped back, hands reaching for the staff laying on the ground a few feet away, before recognizing them as human.

"And here I was thinking my day was getting better." The mage smiled coyly, gesturing to the templars. "I didn't do it."

Darius drew one of his swords, pointing it towards the mage, who backed away, raising his arms, a defeated look on his face.

"Who are you, mage?" Darius asked, his voice calm and even. "Why are those templars dead?"

"I said I didn't do it, or was I unclear on that part? Let me say it again. I didn't do it." Darius was not amused. The Warden-Commander took a threatening step forward, to which the mage stepped back, his face seeming slightly more worried.

"Tell me, mage."

"Darkspawn got to them, and I got to the darkspawn." The mage looked to the door to the side before glancing at one of the templars. "Biff was a bit of a screamer. Lucky me. His dying shrieks woke me up, that they did." The mage shook his head. "Poor Biff. Never really amounted to anything except to save my life, though he certainly never wanted to." The mage gazed upwards thoughtfully for a second before extending his right arm. "I'm Anders, by the way. Wanted mage and apostate. Some would call me a maleficar too, but I think that's a bit harsh."

"Get out of here, apostate." Darius narrowed his eyes, gesturing to the door. "I don't want the hassle of testifying at your murder trial."

"But I didn't..."

"Now!" Darius kept his sword pointed at Anders as he walked away slowly, arms elevated. In a few moments, he had disappeared beyond the door and was gone.

"An apostate? Commander? Why'd you let him leave?" Mhairi did a double-take, examining the door the mage had just escaped through.

"There are bigger issues." And he was gone, rushing through the other door to the rest of the keep. Mhairi swore as she took off after him.

ooo

Again, Mhairi was impressed by Darius' swordplay. Every darkspawn they came across in the keep was cut down easily. She had much more trouble, often only killing 1 or 2 of a band of 8 darkspawn, with Tez and Darius easily dispatching the rest, often coming back to help her slay whatever she was fighting.

She was just glad they hadn't run into any ogres.

"Get out of here, woman!" Darius shouted at a peasant they rescued from two exceptionally powerful darkspawn, an alpha and an emissary. Mhairi panted, sheathing her sword as the woman ran off, praising her saviors and the Maker.

"Maker... There's so many..." Mhairi gasped out, putting her hands on her knees as she examined the eviscerated corpse of the alpha in front of her. Tez chirped excitedly from somewhere behind her, and Darius drew both his swords, walking swiftly towards the deepstalker.

"And there are many more. Keep moving, recruit." Darius said simply, stalking out the door and into the main hall, following Tez. Mhairi watched as her rounded the corner, hanging her head as soon as he was out of sight.

"He's inhuman..." Mhairi complained, running to catch up. By the time she had reached the corner, Darius had already engaged another darkspawn and slain it. Mhairi ran towards him, catching up just as he opened a door, only to dodge as a darkspawn flew out.

"HAHAHAHA! Got you in the danglers didn't I, you sodding nug-humper!" Mhairi could hear the deep, enraged voice before she saw the dwarven host.

He stood in the center of a large room, surrounded by darkspawn, a wicked smile behind his messy, bloodstained beard. He roared, dragging his great axe (and the hurlock who had the axe stuck in its groin) up into the air, flinging the darkspawn up and over his head. It flew to the edge of the room, colliding into a genlock and smashing into an expensive-looking painting hanging from the wall.

Darius didn't pause to ponder at the brutal spectacle before them, rushing into the fray even before the darkspawn left the blade. Mhairi stood dumbly on the side as she watched the two warriors fight, tearing the darkspawn to pieces between them.

The dwarf laughed the entire time, his axe cutting into the most unusual places. He was a powerhouse, one blow shearing one genlock from shoulder to hip clean through. All the while he flung vivid, and often sexually crude, epithets at the darkspawn.

"Get off my pants!" The dwarf shouted, driving the butt of his axe into the skull of a genlock that had wrapped its arms around his waist in a vain attempt to subdue him. The dwarf took a swig of a pouch of alcohol hanging from his belt before slamming it again and again. Finally it dropped away, dead.

Mhairi had barely lifted her sword to fight when the last darkspawn was cut down, sawed through the torso by the blood-crazed dwarf. Darius sheathed his swords, walking to the dwarf to greet him, a large smile on the Warden-Commander's face.

"Oghren! Good to see you again, friend." Darius gripped the dwarf's outstretched hand. The blood-covered dwarf smiled back.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Fights-like-a-bleeding-elf! How've you been? You still dance around the battle like a drunk elvish whore, I see." Mhairi approached slowly, sheathing her blade. The dwarf turned, catching her eye and smiling lasciviously. "I remember you. You're the recruit with a sodding great ass, ain't ya? Turn around for me, lady, I need some release after a long, hard battle like that one, if you know what I mean. I didn't know you liked white meat now, Darius."

"C-Commander?" Mhairi turned to Darius, who just smiled. Tez chirped excitedly, jumping in front of the dwarf.

"Hey! Stick that head of yours anywhere it ain't supposed to be yet, Tez?" Oghren laughed, a roaring, drunken sound, as he pet the deepstalker on the head. "I still got a bet going about what you're capable of."

"You two are... acquainted?" Mhairi was starting to recognize this dwarf now. He had shown up at the keep a few weeks prior demanding to be made a Warden, all the while making a fool of himself. If Mhairi remembered correctly, his hands had a habit of landing in places they didn't need to be.

"Aye. The Commander is the one that told me to come here if I wanted to join the Order." Oghren grinned. "Wait... where's that other bastard? I came in here fighting with some human like that hottie you've got with you, Darius. Where'd he go?"

"There are no human corpses in here, my dwarven friend. Only those of darkspawn." Darius stated after looking about him, one eyebrow tilted upwards.

"Well then we gotta find him!" Mhairi just stared at the dwarf as he charged up the stairs, looking about him almost comically before turning towards Mhairi. The locked eyes, sending shivers up Mhairi's spine. "Don't give me that cocked-face look, girl. Help me find Rowland! Hehe... I said cocked..."

"Rowland?" Mhairi rushed up the stairs as well, looking at the dwarf with relief as she spoke. "Rowland is alive? Where is he?"

"Damned fool woman, I just said we need to find him. C'mon!" And Oghren took off, rushing for the door near the back of the room. Darius followed wordlessly as Mhairi struggled to keep up with the situation about her. Rowland was here? Then...

Oghren threw open the door, his face melting into a more somber tone. Darius stopped running too, instead carefully making his way through the portal. Not sure why they had suddenly slowed, Mhairi rushed towards them, trying to get a look at the hallway in front of her.

"Rowland!" Mhairi shrieked, pushing the dwarf and Darius as she rushed to the fallen man. Rowland lay against the wall, his face covered in blood, his breath coming in short, labored gasps.

"M-Mhairi? My love..." The knight looked up, his eyes squinting as he gazed at Mhairi. She felt tears well up in her as she saw his wounds, innumerable, many of them deep enough to kill. Likely, he wouldn't survive the next hour.

"Who is this man?" Darius said, approaching slowly, kneeling next to Mhairi as he examined the fallen man.

"This is Ser Rowland, the Seneschal of Vigil's Keep. He's my..." Mhairi's voice trailed off as she looked over him again. "Why were you here, Rowland? I thought you said you were going to be in Amaranthine when the Commander got here."

"I-I'm sorry, Mhairi..." Rowland coughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth. "I... I thought it was my duty to see that the Commander be met with a proper welcome. I never thought... we'd be atta-"

Rowland screamed, arcing his body as he gripped his side. He shouted incomprehensibly, his pain apparently unbearable. Darius drew a knife slowly, and Mhairi didn't notice it in time to stop the Commander as it neared Rowlands neck.

"You need not suffer any longer, commander." Darius said, pressing the knife against Rowland's neck.

"No!" Mhairi said quickly, but too late. The long knife buried itself under Rowland's jaw, digging upwards into his brain. He shuddered for a few seconds, his face contorting as if he was smiling. Mhairi stared in shock as Darius withdrew the knife quickly, cleaning the matter from the knife nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry I could not be here sooner, Rowland." Darius mumbled quietly, walking down the hall. Oghren followed him, nodded slightly at the corpse as he passed. Mhairi stared after Darius, words not arriving at her mouth. After a few moments of silence, she spoke, nearly crying as she did so.

"Why did you do that? We could have done something for him!" Mhairi stood, drawing her blade at Darius, who turned slightly at her voice. "Rowland could have lived!"

"He would have died anyway, recruit. Put your sword away." Darius looked at her, his face blank. It unnerved Mhairi how little emotion he showed, even after just cruelly murdering a wounded man. "I did him a favor."

"You don't know that!" Mhairi shouted. Darius turned fully, shaking his head. "You could have done something!"

"He was beyond healing, Mhairi. Now sheathe your blade. We have more darkspawn to kill before this day is over. We have to find the leader." And he turned away, simple as that. There were no apologies. There was no regret. But Mhairi knew somewhere within her that he was right. Rowland was beyond help. Killing him was a mercy. But still it didn't feel right. It was too sudden... How could losing the one she loved be so quick?

"Rest easy, Rowland." Mhairi gazed at the corpse of her beloved. "You were my lover and more, and I will have my revenge."

She gazed hatefully at Darius. He wasn't like the tales. He was ruthless and bloodthirsty, friends with a deviant dwarf that reveled in bloodshed. Yet he was her commander, and Mhairi would do her duty, even if she hated him.

Taking one last look at the dead man she loved, Mhairi followed Darius, struggling to not run back to her dead lover's side.

ooo

"Look, we're on the same side." Anders put his hands in the air defensively, gesturing to the corner of the building. They were on a landing, where Mhairi and Darius had run into the apostate again. "Put the sword away. No? Please? Your real enemy is around that corner."

"Real enemy?" Mhairi saw Darius raise his eyebrow at the apostate, finally sheathing his blade. "Explain yourself, mage."

"I dunno. It's a talking darkspawn. Called itself a disciple and everything." Anders shook his head. "If you promise not to kill me, I'll even help you fight it. Okay?"

"A talking darkspawn?" Darius narrowed his eyes, but brushed the mage aside, hurrying to the edge. Anders shrugged, following. Tez chirped as he ran ahead, faster than both. Oghren laughed, tailing them. Mhairi sighed as she caught up, her mind still on Rowland. The talking darkspawn was likely the leader of the attack, which meant he was responsible for Rowland's death. Her revenge was at hand!

They rounded the corner just as a man screamed, pushed over the edges of the battlements. A uniquely armored darkspawn stood at the edge of the battlements, gazing into the night. Mhairi recognized Varel as the man being held on the ground, his hands tied behind his back and a sword at his neck.

"Whatever foul creature you are, the Maker will have his justice. Your attack will not be unpunished! There are legions of soldiers who eagerly wait to stick a sword through the heart of every one of you dark creatures!" Varel shouted, shifting on his knees. The hurlock holding him growled, forcing him back into position.

The larger darkspawn turned slowly as Darius' group approached. Mhairi felt her fear again as it turned, revealing a maw more twisted than any hurlock possessed. A gnarled, white face stared at them from behind a helmet of blackened steel. Its armor covered its entire body, black and red spikes sticking from its elbows, knees and shoulders. Inside the protective cover of its armor, shining red eyes gazed at the surroundings, taking them in with cold intelligence. These were the eyes of a predator. A killer. Just by gazing at this creature, Mhairi felt panic rise within her.

"The Withered's taking of Vigil's Keep was easy, just as The Architect has foretold." The darkspawn spoke slowly, grappling with the language as he spoke. Its command of human speech was tenuous at best, but the thought that it could even communicate chilled Mhairi. This was a powerful creature, one Mhairi had every urge to run away from.

"A darkspawn that talks?" Darius approached slowly, both his blades drawn. "What do you want, monster? What business do you have here?"

"We be coming to deliver a message." The Withered spoke in its rough, heavy tone. Mhairi approached slowly, but could hardly believe the power she felt from this thing. It was easily seven feet tall, covered head to tow in spiked armor, and could even speak!

Tez growled, barking and baring his multiple rows of teeth at the large, talking darkspawn. The Withered simply looked amused, glancing at the creature as if it was nothing more than a dog waiting to be kicked.

"What message? I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden." Darius said cautiously, his head shifting slightly as two more hurlocks approached from further down the platform. "If there is anyone more appropriate to hear what you have to say, speak now before I cut out your throat."

"It will not be mattering any longer." The Withered smiled, its sharp teeth displaying even through the helmet. "Now that the Warden-Commander be showing himself, there no longer be need for a message. Kill the Wardens, but leave this one alive."

The Withered raised his hand, and the hurlock holding Varel sliced the man's neck open, blood spraying across the ground. Varel gurgled, his eyes rolling back into his head, before slumping to the ground. Dead.

The discple jumped forward before anyone could react, its long, twisted sword striking fast at Darius. Oghren yelled, charging and engaging a hurlock, while Tez rushed for the hurlock that killed Varel. Mhairi backed away, drawing her sword. She wanted to attack the talking darkspawn, but she was too afraid.

_I'm no Warden. All I feel is fear. Pathetic. _Mhairi thought, struggling to snuff out her fears and the horror of seeing Varel die. She rushed towards the nearest hurlock, trying to block out the deaths in her mind. She caught it off guard, jabbing her sword through its side. The thing growled, but the wound did not faze it.

Shrieking, the hurlock pulled its own sword out, slashing Mhairi. Forced to back away, she let go of the sword, as it was still embedded in its side. She fell backwards, and the hurlock stabbed towards her, ready to end her life. Fear gripped Mhairi as she realized the battle would be over for her before it even started.

Or not. Oghren's axe slammed into its skull, slicing the thing in two. It dropped, revealing a smiling, red-head dwarf behind it.

"Get up, thunder ass! We got some more killing to do!" Mhairi stared dumbly at the dwarf before scrambling for her sword, yanking it free. She stood, surveying the battle.

Darius was fully engaged with The Withered. The darkspawn disciple was fast, maybe faster, than the Warden-Commander, and easily kept both of Darius' blades at bay with only a sword and shield. Oghren had already tackled another darkspawn, throwing it off the battlements. Anders whirled his staff, slamming into the face of a hurlock, electrocuting it before it even hit the ground, frying the tainted creature. Tez rushed to Darius, barking.

Mhairi nearly fell over as she heard felt an arrow impact her shoulder, bouncing off the metal plating. Turning, she brought her shield up just fast enough to block the second attack. Mhairi charged towards the archer, hoping she could avoid any more arrows.

The genlock archer managed to loose a third arrow before Mhairi got to it. The genlock shrieked as Mhairi brought her sword down upon its head, slicing through its bow. She turned towards the rest of the battle to find the tides had shifted drastically.

Darius lay against a wall, his head bloody from a wound in the back of his skull. He was moving, which meant he was alive, but Mhairi wasn't sure for how long. The Withered had engaged Anders, but easily won after Anders mistimed an attack, only managing to tear off The Withered's helmet. It clubbed Anders over the back of the head with its shield, who fell to the floor, motionless. Tez was barking at Darius, his worm head sniffing the fallen Warden.

Oghren shouted, charging, as did Mhairi. Surprised by the sudden attack and the realization it was alone, The Withered backed away, heading towards the edge. Oghren and Mhairi stopped short a few feet, menacing the darkspawn as it stood on the precipice, a smile adorning its now helmet-less face.

"It is seeming I have been surrounded. That is too bad." The Withered smiled, raising its arms to its side. "We shall be meeting again soon, Wardens."

The Withered jumped backwards just as Mhairi lunged for him. The darkspawn hung in the air for a second before plummeting to the ground. Mhairi looked over the edge, but the disciple had disappeared.

Had they won?


	3. Adumbration

_Okay, so this is chapter 2. In case you don't know what the chapter title means... look it up. I hope you enjoy it!~_

**Chapter 2**: **Adumbration**

How did he wind up like this?

Anders had nearly gotten out of Ferelden, being that he was so close to Amaranthine, and thus a ticket out of this Maker-forsaken Blight land. Instead, he's trudging along behind a Grey Warden who just got beat up by a talking darkspawn, a dwarf with a drinking problem, a deepstalker and a woman who looked like she'd spent every day of her life day dreaming about the Wardens. At least the woman was cute.

_I should run._ Anders kept saying in his head, over and over again. He had a chance after the templars and darkspawn that held him captive were dead, but he wasted it. _Why did I come back?_

It was because he was curious, always curious. When Darius let him go, all Anders could think about was coming back. All he wanted was to find out what had happened, and so he did. Fat lot of luck that did him.

_Run now, Anders. _He thought, but he couldn't. Something made him want to stay, want to keep following the strange Warden he had run in to. Suddenly, sounds starting ringing into the air, filling previously silent night with noise.

Anders looked up, surprised at what he was hearing. A trumpet played, followed by marching and the clanking of metal plates. Anders looked towards the exit of Vigil's Keep's courtyard as a battalion of soldiers marched through, headed by a man in brilliant golden armor and an unpleasantly familiar templar.

"Ho there, friend!" The man in gold said, clasping hands with Darius in a strong handshake. Anders sidled up next to the Warden-Commander, staring down Ser Rylock. She looked at him hatefully, but all Anders could do is wait and gloat silently. Soon enough she'd be dragging him back to the circle anyway.

"King Alistair? I hadn't expected this." Darius said, smiling.

"Well, I hap-" King Alistair started, only to be interrupted by the damnable templar. Ser Rylock pointed a shaky, metal plated finger at Anders.

"Your majesty! Back away, please! This man is highly dangerous!" Ser Rylock drew her sword, pointing it at Anders. He backed away a step, his hands going up in the air as Ser Rylock approached, her sword resting at his neck.

"Yeah, sure. Blame the mage for everything." Anders rolled his eyes, having been in this situation before. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before he was chained up and hauled off. "You templars never give me credit for trying. Always so stoic and serious."

"Silence, murderer!" Ser Rylock shrieked. The King, Darius and his companions all turned to look at Anders, who smiled sheepishly.

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't do it? No? Then what's the point?" Anders cursed his luck, knowing the deaths of the two templars would come back to haunt him. "I actually tried to save the Templars, you know. Or... what was left of them. The darkspawn are fairly vicious, aren't they?"

"Stay your blade, woman." Anders chuckled, amused that Darius had addressed Ser Rylock as woman. She wouldn't respond to that well. "This mage didn't kill those Templars. The darkspawn got to them before he could."

"The mage has deluded you, then." Ser Rylock pressed her sword further, poking at Anders' neck. "He must be punished. Men! Bring the chains! We'll drag him back to the Tower to await execution."

"E-Execution?" Anders couldn't believe what he was hearing! They were going to kill him! "You can't do that to me? I'm still young and handsome! I have a life to lead!"

"Justice will be done, mage." Ser Rylock said as two templars approached, ball and chain in hands. "There is no darkness without light, and the Maker shall take your soul eagerly to cast it into the darkness."

"I said hold, woman!" Darius shouted. Before Anders realized what was happening, Darius had drawn his own sword, knocking Rylock's out of her hand. King Alistair looked at the exchange dumbly while everything went silent, still, waiting for something, anything, to happen next.

"You dare strike at a templar, Warden? I'll have your head!" Rylock shrieked. She did that a lot, Anders thought ruefully.

"I hereby conscript Anders into the Grey Wardens, where he shall serve until his dying breath." Darius said calmly, collected. Rylock's eyes widened in horror.

"You can't! The Divine will not stand for this!" Rylock picked up her sword, sheathing it. "Anders life is mine! King Alistair, you can't possibly accept this sort of blasphemy!"

"I... will allow it." King Alistair said slowly. "The Wardens need recruits, and they have never discriminated in that regard. No matter Anders past, he is welcome among the Wardens."

"The Divine will hear of this! Your authority is not unlimited, king. You should learn that." And she turned, briskly walking away, templars in tow. Alistair sighed, as did Anders.

"We need to clear the Vigil of any more darkspawn, my liege." Darius pointed out, gesturing to Oghren and Mhairi. "Send those two, along with your soldiers, your majesty."

"R-Right!" Anders noted the nervousness of Alistair. He was uncertain in his rule, which seemed odd. King Alistair was a famous warrior king, so why would he seem ill at ease?

Alistair shouted some orders, to which his soldiers immediately responded, rushing off towards the entrance to the Keep. Mhairi dismissed herself before departing, while Oghren belched, lumbering to the door slowly.

"So I'm going to be a Grey Warden?" Anders said slowly, now that he was alone with Darius, King Alistair and Tez. "Never expected that."

"You wi-" Darius started to respond, but was cut off when clapping started resounding through the air. Anders tried to find the source of the sound, but it seemed to radiate from everywhere, every direction.

"Bravo! Standing up to a templar! I like you already, Warden-Commander." Anders turned sharply, staring into the shadows beneath the wall behind him. A man leaned against the wall, his robes black enough to seem to melt into the shadows around him. A bright golden staff with a crystalline top was gripped in his left hand, with a vicious, jagged sword in the other.

"Who are you?" Darius shouted, drawing his blades. King Alistair raised his hand, blocking the Warden-Commander.

"Adrian?" Anders backed away, looking at both King Alistair and the new arrival, who approached slowly, smiling.

"I'm so glad to have not been forgotten, my king." Adrian spat out the last two words, as if in contempt. King Alistair bristled, drawing his own sword.

"You damned traitor!" Alistair shouted, catching Anders off guard. "You're supposed to be dead!"

Suddenly Anders recognized the newcomer. Adrian, the Hero of Ferelden, who had slain the Archdemon half a year prior. He was also the former Chancellor of Denerim, who had been ousted from power after a mysterious rebellion two months before. Rumors were abound that he was mentally unsound, and looking at him now, dressed all in black, openly baring arms at the king, Anders might have believed it.

"Harsh words! They cut me deep indeed!" Adrian laughed, twirling his staff around his hand once before slamming the end into the ground, imbedding it there. "You honestly believe it was me who threw Denerim into chaos? Such ignorance, as per your usual, Alistair."

"What has happened to you, Adrian?" Alistair asked suddenly, as Anders noticed the fire in the warrior king's eyes diminish slightly. If the stories were true, these two had been great friends in the time of the Blight, a templar and a mage ready to die in order to save the other.

"I have seen the truth." Adrian said simply. "My goal here is not violence, but to give your Warden-Commander some information, that which he may find useful."

"What information, mage?" Darius asked bluntly, lowering his swords slightly. Anders couldn't help but feel something odd around Adrian. He seemed... twisted in some way, though he could not tell how.

"There is more to this world than you are capable of knowing." Adrian smirked. "Wars arise from the north, the south, within every Ferelden citizen. This land will be torn apart, to become that which is unrecognizable. I have found The Maker, and I know him to be false, yet one name repeats itself again and again in my mind."

"And what name is that?"

"Hawke." Adrian smiled viciously, pointing his sword to the sky. "You are but the groundwork to the creation of something greater, as was I, yet I have become that which I used to retreat from. I have seen more than you mortals, and I have grown amused. Pay attention to the choices you make, Darius, for they will affect more than the lands you wish to protect. The darkspawn awaken, and your decision may change them forever."

"What the hell do you mean, mage? Why do you call us mortals?" Darius shouted, to which Adrian only backed away, shaking his head.

"You will suffer tragedy beyond knowing, Darius, and you shall become the cause. You will be an epitome of evil when this is over. That is unchanging." Adrian smirked. "You will kill more men than I. You will allow death. You will run in fear from it, but in the end, you will not be able to escape it."

"Explain yourself, Adrian. Why are you being so vague?" Alistair shouted, stepping forward threateningly. Anders saw Darius hadn't moved so much as an inch, and didn't seem perturbed by Adrians message in the slightest.

"But that wouldn't be any fun, now would it, _friend_?" Adrian spat the last word out, his extreme distaste evident. Anders could feel the other mage's emotion, he could sense his power, but it was beyond anything he had felt before. What was he?

"You're mad." Alistair said finally, sheathing his sword, his words breathless with surprise.

"No. Not mad." Adrian backed away, wrapping his pitch black cloak around himself. "Enlightened."

Adrian's form shimmered slightly before winking away, disappearing entirely. Anders stared in shock at where the mage had been just a moment before. He teleported? But that was impossible! You can't do such a thing with magic.

But the words the mage said still rung in Anders' ears, haunting him. He looked at Darius again, and suddenly the Warden-Commander seemed different. No longer was he a comforting authority presence, but now Anders wasn't sure what to think.

Darius is the epitome of evil?

ooo

"The Joining is a simple ritual for those that undertake it." Darius started, examining each of the three Warden recruits in turn. If Darius was disturbed by what Adrian had said, Anders couldn't see it. "But, unfortunately, it is much more complicated for those that prepare it. I will need a few hours before it is ready, so be patient until then."

Darius turned and walked away, with Tez barking by his leg, leaving Mhairi, Anders and Oghren alone in the throne room.

Anders sighed heavily, sitting against a pillar. Oghren took a long swig from the pouch hanging from his belt, leaning back as he did so. The dwarf overbalanced, falling to the ground. When Anders checked him, the dwarf had passed out, too drunk to be cognizant of his surroundings.

"A foul dwarf, indeed." Mhairi scoffed, folding her arms and pacing. Anders looked up at her, feeling the twinges of boredom gnaw at him.

"Is there a particular reason you're pacing nervously, or-"

"We could die!" Mhairi stated suddenly, catching Anders off guard. "The Joining is dangerous, people undergo it and if they don't become Grey Wardens, they'll die. I don't know what Darius is going to make us do, but it changes people."

"You mean it makes them better?" Anders verbally poked, trying to gauge this Mhairi as a person. "Grey Wardens are renowned for their strength, so maybe this ritual is just about weeding out the weak? I don't much care, but I guess if you fail and die, then you weren't worthy of being a Warden in the first place."

"The Wardens must do what is necessary." Mhairi's voice seemed shaky, uncertain. "And if there was nobody willing to take the risk, then there would be no Grey Wardens, right?"

"It's better than going back to the Tower, I say." Anders smirked at her, before noticing that Mhairi seemed to be getting more and more agitated. "I just wish I could curl up and sleep, actually. Fighting for your life seems to do that to a person, I think."

"But what if I'm not worthy!" Anders was taken aback by Mhairi's sudden outburst. "What if I fail the Joining! I'll die!"

"Relax, Mhairi." Anders shook his head. "It's probably an exaggeration how dangerous it is. The Grey Wardens want us to freak out, I'll bet. It's like the templars. If they don scary masks and act intimidating, then innocent mages like myself wet our beds at night thinking about them. Not that I did, of course."

"I... I guess you're right." Mhairi took a deep breath, steadying herself. She sat a few feet away from Anders, placing her back against another pillar. "During the fight earlier, I was so scared, yet Darius was completely calm."

"He's been killing darkspawn a lot longer than you have, Mhairi." Anders tried to sound reassuring. Mhairi was cute after all, so it wouldn't hurt to earn a few points with her. "Likely he's been in more situations than either of us where his life has been in jeopardy."

"Hehe... Heh... What're you doing with that sword, purdy lady?" Anders looked over at Oghren, who had started mumbling in his drunken stupor. Anders stifled a laugh. "You like 'em like that, huh? All long and hard..."

"He's a thoroughly revolting creature, isn't he?" Mhairi sniffed, turning away from the drunken dwarf. "How low can the standards be for the Wardens if they are even recruiting his sort?"

"I think he's quite the charmer. Girls must be all over him." Anders smiled, standing. "A first rate flirt, that he is."

He walked over to the drunken dwarf, grabbing the satchel of alcohol from his belt. As soon as he tried to pull away, however, Oghren's hand reached out, grabbing Anders' wrist.

"Get yer hand off my junk. You ain't pretty enough..." Oghren trailed off, falling back into unconsciousness. Anders pulled the alcohol away anyway, retreating back towards Mhairi. He sat next to her, slowly unscrewing the top of the bottle.

"If we're going to undergo a dangerous ritual, why not get drunk first?" Anders laughed after he spoke, taking a long swig of the drink. It burned and tasted like cleaning solution, but Anders could feel the ridiculously high proof. Mhairi looked uncertain, her eyes darting from Anders to the flask.

"But... if we need to be in the best of shape for the Joining-"

"Drink!" Anders interrupted, pushing the flask into Mhairi's hand. She took it hesitantly, but finally downed a sip, before contorting her face in disgust and spitting it out.

"It's terrible!" Mhairi complained, before Anders lifted the flask from the bottom, putting it to her lips again. She slowly took another sip, then a gulp, assisted by Anders. Finally, he lowered it, letting her breathe.

"I-I think I'll... take another sip." Anders stumbled over his words, realizing just now how strong Oghren's private stash was. He took a long gulp, downing the liquid readily, before passing it back to Mhairi.

"I'll tear your stomach apart!" Oghren sat up suddenly, eyes glazed over as he stared at the wall. Slowly, he descended back to the ground, still unconscious. "Use your intestines as a condom... that I will..."

Anders and Mhairi burst out laughing, drunk as they were. For whatever reason, Oghren's brusque and violent demeanor suddenly seemed like comedy genius.

And when Darius finally came back, he shook his head, disapprovingly noting how all three of his recruits were passed out drunk.

ooo

Anders awoke suddenly when Tez's worm-head bit down into his calf. He arced his back in pain, awakening Mhairi, who had been resting on his shoulder.

"Maker!" Anders rubbed his leg, relieved there was no bleeding, but there were multiple circular holes in his robes leg. "Bloody hell!"

Darius walked over to Oghren, delivering a sound kick to his side. The dwarf snorted, slowly getting up, rubbing his stomach and belching. Mhairi stretched, mumbling about a headache.

"The Joining has been prepared. Come, all three of you. Hopefully your drunkenness doesn't affect your ability to pass the ritual." And Darius turned, briskly walking from the room. Anders couldn't help but feel a hint of annoyance from the Commander, though that was probably warranted.

They did get drunk on the job, after all.

"My head..." Anders complained, slowly standing. He didn't know how long he had slept, but judging from the light filtering in through the windows, it was more than a few hours.

The three recruits followed Darius through the door, heading higher into the Keep. They walked through dark, winding and sometimes blood-filled hallways, up stairs, around corners, through the winding maze that was the Keep.

Finally, Darius climbed a ladder, pushing a trapdoor open at the top. As Anders crawled through after him, his breath caught in his mouth.

Staring out from the tower he found himself in, Anders could see all of Amaranthine, it seemed. To the North, he could see the winding, rolling countryside of Amaranthine, to the East he could see mountains and ridges, to the West the ocean was splayed out in front of him, and the South revealed a long stretch of land which ended in distant Denerim.

"By the Maker's golden ass, this is beautiful." Anders proclaimed, putting his hands on a windowsill, letting the wind cool him. The light of morning illuminated Vigil's Keep and the vast surroundings, leaving Anders breathless.

"Yeah, yeah. Admire the land like a damned elf, why don't ya?" Oghren snorted, looking to Darius. "When do we drink the damned blood? I need a good rinsing."

"Drink blood?" Anders turned, staring at the dwarf. "That's what we have to do to join the Wardens? How do you even know that, Oghren?"

"What? You think me blind, deaf and constipated?" Oghren laughed, reaching for his flask of alcohol, only to find it wasn't there. He roared, angry. "Who took my happy juice!"

"Enough, recruits." Darius spoke, silencing the dwarf before he could fly into a rage. Mhairi stood by Anders, grabbing his hand in fear. Surprised, Anders opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, instead hoping his silence would reassure her.

Darius walked to the table in the center of the empty tower room, where three goblets filled with a red liquid – the blood – rested. He closed his eyes, lifting one towards the recruits.

"Since the first, these words have been spoken at this ceremony," Darius somberly held the cup, staring into each of the three recruit's eyes. "Join us, brothers and sisters."

Mhairi tightened her grip on Anders hands. He looked towards her, only to see her sweating, so nervous was she.

"Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant." Mhairi trembled and Anders found himself smiling. He leaned in, whispering a reassurance. She eased up slightly, but still remained tense.

"Join us as we carry a duty that can not be forsworn." Anders gazed back at Darius, who was still speaking the ancient words. Anders felt the power within them, the duty-bound promises they spoke of.

"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten." Anders looked at Mhairi, who smiled back at him faintly. "And know that one day we shall join you."

"Oghren, step forward." Darius handed the goblet to Oghren, who stared into the cup suspiciously. "From here on out, you are a Grey Warden."

"Better have some alcohol in it." And he swung his head back, downing all of the liquid swiftly. The dwarf shuddered, eyes rolling back into his head, before falling backwards with a groan. Darius approached slowly, feeling his pulse.

"He lives." Darius said simply, before returning to the table. He picked the second goblet up, gesturing to Anders. "Anders, step forward." He did, letting go of Mhairi as Darius handed him the cup. "From this moment forward, you are a Grey Warden."

"Bottoms up!" Anders chugged, just as Oghren did. Instantly he regretted it, feeling the dark taint course within him. He bent over, hands rushing to his head as visions filled his mind.

He was soaring in the air, staring over a sea of fire. Though he wasn't sure how, he could hear the screams, he knew their names, their lives. He saw darkspawn tear mothers from children, slaughtering, pillaging, burning.

Then he was falling. Falling into the sea of fire and beyond, through the ground and the darkness of the world below. Voices called to him, begging him to set them free. A song drifted to his ears, drawing Anders towards it. He couldn't resist, so strong was this lure. And so he traveled through impenetrable darkness as the land above him burned, as people died, but he cared not,

He heard the Song, and he wanted the Source.

"Welcome, Anders." The mage spun, only to see a girl in a black dress staring at him. She smiled, a strangely comforting sight. "You've drank of my blood, and so you will be rewarded."

"What are you?" Anders heard himself say. The song came from her, but also came from elsewhere. He could feel other sources, other beginnings of this beautiful music.

"I am Urthemiel." The girl giggled, walking closer. "And I am not. As all who take in my taint have been corrupted, so have you, Grey Warden. It is interesting, for you are a mage too, just like my father."

"Your father...?" Anders felt himself losing his lucidity. All around him dark shapes grabbed at him, threatening to drag him back, back to the world above. He resisted. He wanted answers. Who was this girl!

"Adrian Amell, of the Circle of Magi." The girl suddenly seemed sad, as if recalling some tragic event. "He has been changed by his own taint, by that of The Demon. He is more powerful than Morrigan now, but he has become as Flemeth has, an unknown creature that cannot be understood."

A vision of the black-clad mage flashed through Anders' mind. He saw men being torn about by his hand, he saw the laughing face of Adrian as he used the sword and staff to kill all he came across. He heard again the screaming of the world above, except now the laughter of the mage rose above the din, drowning out the sounds of dying.

"What am I supposed to do?" Anders asked, scared by that which he saw. He understood none of it, yet knew it was infinitely important.

"You are required to do nothing." The girl shook her head. "No. It is my job alone to do what must be done. You are but a man who has taken my taint, who has seen and touched corruption. You have already done more than any normal human."

"What is going to happen now?" Anders pressed as the visions started to consume his vision. The girl flickered, replaced by images of bodies, of death, of blood. "Please! Tell me!"

"In time, Anders. For now you must rest, for you will see tragedy beyond knowing. You will be unable to stop it, for it has been foretold." And she was gone. Anders screamed as he was whisked backwards, his connection with the Song broken as he flew up into the air.

ooo

Anders awoke suddenly, realizing he still lay on the tower floor. Turning his head, he realized exactly how close he lay to Oghren, the dwarf's rotting breath rolling into his mouth. Coughing, the mage sat up.

He rubbed his eyes, unsure of why his vision was blurry. As it cleared, he saw Darius and Mhairi standing near one another. No... wait... they weren't...

Darius' sword flashed forward, tearing through the front of Mhairi's armor, entering into her stomach and ripping upwards, into her heart and lungs. Anders stared in shock as Darius withdrew, pulling his blade away.

Mhairi stumbled backwards, clutching at her fatal wound. She hit an open window and overbalanced, falling out the tower.

"Mhairi!" Anders shot upwards, running to the edge to try and catch her, but too late. He was too far away.

She had already hit the ground.


	4. Prominence

_Well, this story is certainly being very entertaining to write, so I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. As I am taking a very open approach to the writing of this story, I want to remind my readers that I am open to suggestions regarding this story (by suggestions I mean... well... anything). If you have an idea, just let me know in reviews or through PMs. Also, **I need more criticism! **Please. If you wish to see me continue to improve as a writer, you need to tell me what I am doing wrong._

_Anyway, enjoy chapter 3 of Legendary! This one was very interesting to write._

**Chapter 3: Prominence**

_ There are always shadows dancing to the beat of the flames, Nathaniel remembered. An old seer in the Free Marches told him that once. Nathaniel called her an insane old bat. She laughed._

_ But in time, Nathaniel grew to understand the meaning of her words. Wherever there is an illustrious flame, shadows will follow it, evil will ever be at the edges of its reach, ready to snuff it out._

_ So had Nathaniel's father died, alone and innocent, his honor dragged through the mud, his name sullied forever. And that Cousland, that Fergus, still lived, a Teyrn of a ghost keep where he lived amongst the shadows of his own past, his dead family. It was punishment enough for an innocent man._

_ No. Nathaniel didn't want vengeance on the Couslands. He wanted to kill the one who ended his father's life. He wanted the head of the Hero of Ferelden, but he had lost his chance. Adrian Amell was gone, disappeared forever in the annals of time with a sword thrust through his heart. So Nathaniel had to settle upon Adrian's companions, those that assisted in his father's demise._

_ Sten, the mighty qunari, had disappeared back to his homeland with the dog. No chance to find him there._

_ Morrigan, one of the shadows flitting about Adrian's grand flame, disappeared without a trace._

_ Leliana, the beautiful bard, was a master of deception and disguise. No easy target, and definitely not a wise first target._

_ Shale and Wynne had last been seen in the Tevinter Imperium, unfortunately for Nathaniel. Too far away and too little time. They would have to wait._

_ As for Zevran and Rayne, only rumors surrounded the pair of elves. Some said they had taken over separate sects of the Antivan Crows and were battling each other for power, other said they ruled the famous assassins together with an iron fist._

_ And since Alistair was the King of Ferelden, that left only one target: The dwarf. Oghren._

_ Nathaniel paused as he finally unlocked the door, swinging it wide to reveal the treasure chamber of Vigil's Keep. There were no guards about, as the rogue knew all their shifts. Slowly, with a careful gait, he sneaked inside._

_ Again Nathaniel thought of his past, of his recent mistakes. Unfortunately, even when Nathaniel stood over Oghren's side when he lay in the muck of the tavern floor, passed out drunk, he could not strike that final blow. He wasn't able to kill Oghren. He could not stoop to the level of his father's murderers, so he decided simply upon regaining his family artifacts._

_ Easy enough. He was already in the treasure room. All that was left was to-_

_ "Hey!" Nathaniel turned, readying a bow. A man wearing the crest of the Wardens stood in the doorway, sword in hand. "What're you doing here, rogue? Nobody but Seneschal Rowland is allowed in here!"_

_ "Just taking a look around," Nathaniel tried to put on his most convincing look, but the Warden was not amused. "You know, gaze upon the riches of the people above us."_

_ "Keep talking, thief." The Warden approached, shouting for reinforcements._

_ "Wonderful..." Nathaniel cursed his luck, realizing he would have to fight anyhow. Drawing his sword, Nathaniel charged._

_ It took many, many Wardens to bring him down, so great was his rage._

ooo

"Awaken, boy." The voice called to him, seductive yet harsh. Nathaniel felt his body shift, dragging him away from his dreams. Again the voice called, soothing yet terrifying. Something about it drew him towards it. Curiosity, wonderment... answers.

Slowly, Nathaniel fall from his dreams, his mind drifting back to reality. Cold, hard reality, that of a jail cell, greeted his eyes as they slowly opened. The only light was from a torch outside his cell. A guard sat underneath, except... it was no guard.

There was a man donned in a fine black robe, a vicious sword hanging from his belt. The man slowly tapped his golden staff into the ground, staring at Nathaniel. The young Howe could barely see his face, but the eyes gripped him. Fierce, blood red. The eyes of a killer. The eyes of ruthlessness, as if he was staring at a demon given human form.

"You don't look like a guard." Nathaniel sneered, hiding his uncertainty of the man. There was no reason to feel fear, so the Howe did not. There was, however, a caution Nathaniel felt compelled to obey.

"I am many things, Nathaniel Howe." The man grinned, the friendly look almost making him appear trustworthy, but Nathaniel knew better. "A slave of the law is not one. I operate outside the conventional norm, and so my powers are not best served dealing with petty, unimportant crime."

"Truly, I am impressed." Nathaniel retorted coldly. "And what manner of fool are you? Should I be amazed by your rhetoric or simply intrigued by your lack of sanity?"

The man rose slowly, walking closer to the cell. He grabbed the bars, staring inside at Nathaniel, who lay against the wall on the other side. Through the dark, the Howe could only barely see the strange man, but the eyes shone despite the darkness, like a cat waiting to jump its prey.

"You need to be nothing, my friend." The man smiled again. "For your simple presence, your life, is all that is necessary."

"Speak sense, you joke." Nathaniel shot, standing in an attempt to intimidate the man. He didn't so much as blink.

"I'm going to set you free." Nathaniel started to speak, but stopped upon realizing what the man had said. Confused, Nathaniel let him continue. "But you have to fulfill a promise for me."

"I won't guarantee I'll do it. Most likely I'll leave and never come back." Nathaniel gripped the bars, staring straight into the man's eyes.

Their gazes remained locked for some time, neither speaking. Nathaniel felt his confidence rise, so he smirked. The other man's face remained blank, eternally unimpressed by whatever he was seeing.

"I want you to kill Darius Caron, the new Arl of Amaranthine, the acting Seneschal." The man spoke finally, his tone even. "The throne room is not far from here and none of the guards will recognize you."

"How can you guarantee that?" Nathaniel spit, grinding his teeth down into a snarl, slowly becoming annoyed with the man. "If I remember correctly, half the keep saw my face when I was carted into this dungeon in the first place."

The man said nothing, backing away slowly. He waved his hand and the door to the prison cell unlatched, slowly swinging open.

"Adieu, Nathaniel." The man smiled, slowly backing away into the shadows. Soon enough, he was gone.

ooo

Sunlight. It had been too long since the grace of light had reached Nathaniel's eyes. It was beautiful, the sights and sounds mixing together to form a beautiful synesthetic melody within his mind. He reached behind him, feeling the familiar weight of his bow, safe again with the protection of his armor.

All around him people moved, repairing walls, setting up shops, talking, joking, moving about in stark contrast to the world within the lone holding cell. But one thing grabbed Nathaniel's attention, drawing him away from his relief of being re-exposed to the outside world after those weeks of being within the dungeon.

There wasn't so much as half the people as before. Maybe a third or fourth. The guards presence was minimal and no Grey Wardens were in sight. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, in worried voices. The walls were broken – hence the reason for the repairs being done – but why?

What the hell happened?

Nathaniel wandered towards a group of people conversing, hoping to get a sense of events around him, but their conversation revealed nothing. Just a bunch of people wondering about a missing woman.

Slowly, Nathaniel walked towards the gate into Vigil's Keep. He needed answers, but also food and water, having been deprived of both for nearly two days now. Nathaniel started to worry that whatever happened to the keep was the reason why the guards no longer came to his cell to deliver meals.

Finally, the word he needed struck his ears. Nathaniel turned sharply, to where a blacksmith and a shopkeeper conversed in low tones, but just loud enough for Nathaniel to make out what they were saying. Slowly, the Howe edged closer, trying to figure everything out.

"But _Herren_, this place is drab and weary, not to mention how close I got to getting stabbed the other day!" The blacksmith whined, rubbing his mustache worriedly. "And all the people are so _mean_. Why can't they just appreciate my genius? Back in Denerim, I had _respect_!"

"In Denerim, the people were giving you a wide berth, not respect, Wade!" The other man, Herren, responded, shaking his head while laying down weapons upon a table. "And I told you nothing bad would happen to us, so quit your complaining. Working for the Grey Wardens will make us much more money than simply acquisitioning armor and weapons for idiot nobles in Denerim."

"I've been asked to make thirty suits of silverite mail within the next two weeks. _Thirty_!" Wade sighed, as if his entire world was crumbling apart around him. Nathaniel smiled, amused at the spectacle. "It's so _boring_ I could just curl up and die. I wish those darkspawn hadn't attacked..."

Nathaniel's breath caught. A darkspawn attack? He backed away slowly, turning to face the rest of the Vigil courtyard. How did Nathaniel hear nothing? Well, he did hear something. There were screams, loud noises, but he thought nothing of them. Looking about the courtyard now, it made sense. Red stains covered walls, walls broken as if by some massive outside force. Scratches and scrapes on most solid surface and the general feeling of dread pervaded everything.

But he still had a mission. Nathaniel knew Oghren was here, and he was the original purpose for coming to Vigil's Keep. To avenge his family. If the dwarf had died in the darkspawn attack, then all the better, but the stories spoke of him as a magnificent dwarven general unafraid of death and darkspawn. Oghren could wade into a throng of foes, swing his mighty axe and emerge victorious after smiting every foe, and friend, within a mile radius.

Nathaniel liked a challenge.

He stalked towards the portcullis, slipping inside, hoping not to have been seen. Slowly making his way through the Keep, he headed upwards to where the throne room lay. If Oghren wasn't there, then Nathaniel would need to ask questions, which was not a good strategy to staying inconspicuous.

"Excuse me?" Nathaniel turned sharply, coming face to face with an elven serving girl. Strangely enough, her hair was pure white, her eyes a light purple. "Visitors are not allowed in this part of the keep."

_Shit... _Nathaniel thought, thinking fast. Giving up on remaining completely invisible, Nathaniel spoke in as kind a voice as he could manage. "I'm sorry for troubling you, my lady, but can you tell me where Oghren, the dwarf, is?"

"You mean the foul mouthed Warden hopeful who gropes every serving girl he sets his eyes upon?" The elf sighed, pointing down the hallway to Nathaniel's right. "I last saw him after the mass funeral. He started drinking and belching up a storm. I think he passed out in the throne room, or something."

"Thank you, my lady." Nathaniel nodded, starting to sprint towards the throne room.

"Wait!" The albino elf called after him, causing Nathaniel to skid in his tracks. Turning to look back at her, he noticed she had cocked her head, staring at him strangely. "Have we met before? What's your name?"

"E-Ernest." Nathaniel said, hoping he came off as convincing. He had never been a good liar. The albino elf simply nodded, turning away. After a moment she looked back at him, smiling.

"It's truly nice to meet you, Ser Ernest." She said before walking away. Nathaniel again thanked her before running in the direction of the throne room. If Oghren was there...

The idea of killing another did not weigh well on his mind, but Nathaniel knew vengeance was the way of the world. Maybe it would accomplish nothing, or maybe it would set his father's death straight. It mattered little what would happen after, only that Oghren paid for Rendon Howe's suffering.

Nathaniel could only hope the dwarf wasn't innocent.

ooo

"Get up dwarf, before you make the carpet smell like a brewery too." Nathaniel peered around a corner, gazing into the throne room. A blonde man in robes stood over a dwarf, who lay on the ground with his back facing Nathaniel.

"But here I can peer up your skirt, mage." The dwarf, Nathaniel assumed he was Oghren, erupted into laughter. "What's that you're wearing? Panties? A thong? They suit you!"

The mage crossed his arms, rolling his eyes while the dwarf rocked back and forth, laughing so hard he started coughing, then choking. The mage simply watched as the dwarf heaved, expelling a large chunk of food halfway across the room.

"Not only are you funny, but you're an interior designer." The mage shook his head, staring at the spot on the wall where the chunk hung to. "What else is in your _vast _repertoire of parlor tricks and drinking games? What other hidden talents do you possess? No wait, let me guess. You can fart the lullaby, right?"

"Actually..." Oghren smiled childishly, a soft squeak erupting from his behind. The mage turned away in disgust. "There's A!"

"Enough, you two. There's someone here to see us." Nathaniel turned, trying to find whoever the third voice mentioned. Before long, the sinking feeling in his stomach revealed that the voice was actually referring to Nathaniel himself. "Come on out, rogue. I know exactly which pillar you're hiding behind. Why not speak to us civilly rather than a cowardly shadow?"

Nathaniel stepped into plain sight slowly, his bow leveled on the dwarf. The third, previously unseen speaker sat on the throne, his back straight and gaze level.

_Seneschal Darius Caron. _Nathaniel thought, noting the Warden insignia emblazoned on the front of the man's leather armor. Two swords rested against the throne, equal in size, shape and sharpness.

"What do you want? Why do you point a bow at us?" Darius narrowed his eyes. "You do realize that as soon as you shoot one of us that, even if you manage to kill your target, you will be overwhelmed and slaughtered by the remaining two of us, right?"

Nathaniel remained silent. He knew if he was fast he could take out the mage and the dwarf before Darius reached him, but by then he would be out of options with his bow. The man was smart, and spoke the truth.

"Put the bow down. I'd rather know why you have come here with a weapon pointed against the Grey Wardens." Darius stood, his swords gripped in his hands.

"My name is Nathaniel Howe and I've come to avenge my father, Rendon Howe, rightful ruler of Amaranthine!" Nathaniel nearly shouted, still trying to discern which of the three was most dangerous, and thus should be shot down first. "This traitorous dwarf assisted in my father's murder, and so he is a man destined only for death."

"Sodded ingrate! I wasn't even around when your father kicked the dirt. I only poked around in the dirt of his crushed estate to find the damned body!" Oghren shouted, standing. He seemed enraged, which was a trait Nathaniel had often heard said of the dwarf. "Your father was a shaft-grazing son of a whore anyway, kid. Tough break, but he deserved to die."

"Don't you dare speak that way of my father!" Nathaniel snapped, despite his mind demanding he kept calm, controlled. "He was a good man! A just man! He was merely a victim of being on the wrong side of this war! If he threw his lot in with Adrian he would have lived to honor my family name further!"

"If you're wishing death, then you can come and get it." Oghren picked up his great axe, which had been lying a few feet away. "But don't hide behind that fancy stick of yours. Face me like a sodding man. One on one. A duel."

"Oghren, wai-" Darius started, but Oghren cut him off.

"Nobody falsely accuses Oghren without paying the price." Oghren roared, swinging his battle axe over his head, bringing it down upon the floor, splitting the stone it impacted. "And the price is death! Sod it all, I'll be shining my shoes with your blood!"

Oghren charged as Nathaniel loosed an arrow, striking the dwarf in his shoulder, but he didn't so much as flinch. Ignoring Oghren's incomprehensible shouting, Nathaniel nocked another arrow, aiming for the dwarf's heart, but to no avail. Oghren arrived first, chopping with his axe, slicing viciously down the front of the wood.

"Shit!" Nathaniel sputtered, dropping the now-useless hunk of wood. He drew his sword, backing away a few feet. Oghren paused, examining the wound in his shoulder, a broad smile adorning his drunken face.

"Don't feel nothing, human." To accentuate this, Oghren grabbed the arrow and yanked it out. Blood splattered across the ground, only to be stepped upon as the dwarf drew closer to Nathaniel.

Oghren shouted, bringing his axe into the air. He feinted, slicing sideways as Nathaniel dodged to the left. Feeling the axe scratch his side, Nathaniel grimaced. He should have seen that coming.

"Give it up, boy!" The dwarf shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. Nathaniel didn't respond, parrying the next blow, then the next. He backed away slowly, letting dwarf attack, swinging wildly and laughing.

Nathaniel found his chance, narrowly rolling under Oghren's next swipe. Getting his footing, Nathaniel pivoted, stabbing at Oghren's exposed flank. The sword broke flesh, driving in an inch or two.

"My ass!" Oghren roared, ripping the sword out of Nathaniel's grasp as he turned viciously, axe swinging. Now unarmed, all Nathaniel could do was dodge backwards, avoiding the dwarf's mad blows.

Nathaniel noted the other Wardens in the room. Arl Darius still sat, but leaned in with curiosity while examining the fight. The mage stood by his side, unsure of how to act. A deepstalker lay on the ground to the other side, staring intently at Nathaniel. Oghren finally stopped swinging, most likely realizing that he needed to conserve his strength.

"C'mon," Oghren slammed his free fist into his chest, puffing it out. "Take a stride. Take the plunge. I'll gladly tear your pretty face in two, boy."

Nathaniel could wait no longer. He ran forward, straight towards Oghren. He stopped himself moments after Oghren started to swing, leaning back just enough to avoid the swing before righting himself, charging at Oghren. He drew his only weapon, a hidden dagger, from its boot sheath, jabbing it into Oghren's arm, but not fast enough.

With a roar, the dwarf socked Nathaniel in the stomach, then in the crotch. The Howe stumbled backwards, contorting his body in pain. Nathaniel felt his legs give way as the handle of Oghren's axe swept them out beneath him.

He landed on his back, his vision going blank for just a second, the wind escaping from his lungs swiftly. As he opened his eyes, he spied his sword just a few feet away. Nathaniel reached for it, only to find an axe at his throat.

"Don't even try." Oghren stood over him, blood running freely from numerous wounds, but still he grinned. "One move and off your head goes. Slowly. Hell, I prefer it if you scream too. Makes it more fun."

"Then kill me." Nathaniel rolled, lunging towards his blade. He stopped short a foot away as the flat of the axe head impacted his skull. Stars danced in front of his vision for a second from the weight of the blow as Nathaniel lay still, disoriented. He could hear the air move as Oghren raised his blade, ready to take off his head.

"Wait, Oghren!" Nathaniel looked up as weariness, likely from a concussion, gnawed at the edges of his vision. Darius had stood, swords in hand, striding towards Nathaniel.

He felt himself get rolled over as Darius sat on his chest and arms, blades resting against his neck. Oghren grunted, backing away, snorting and mentioning something vulgar, though Nathaniel was too concussed to make out what.

"You fight well, stranger." Darius spoke, his voice even. How odd, considering Nathaniel just tried to kill his underling. "If you would like to spare yourself death, I have a proposition for you."

"Just end my life, coward!" Nathaniel spit, raising his head as far as he could. "Kill me like you Wardens killed my father! There will be no one to mourn me, so go ahead!"

"I'm afraid criminals don't make decisions." Darius smiled in what seemed a thoughtful way, though Nathaniel couldn't tell about what. "I hereby conscript you into the Grey Wardens, Nathaniel Howe. You will serve us until the moment you last draw breath, whether you wish it to be so or not."

"No!" Nathaniel shouted, draining the rest of his strength. He felt his head impact the ground again, his consciousness fading, but he needed to say more. He needed to deny this! "I will not join! I will not... KILL ME! Kill me if you know mercy, but do not enlist me in the very organization that murdered my father! I will not... allow... it..."

Nathaniel trailed off, his vision weakening. Darius simply smiled, ushering the mage over. Nathaniel could feel the deepstalker sniff his face, but he focused on the fading Warden.

"I will not..." Nathaniel tried to force out, only to find he lacked the strength. "join you..."

"Heal him, Anders. His Joining is tonight." Was the last he heard before succumbing to his weariness.

ooo

"Nathaniel Howe, step forward please. You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good." He did as was told, one hand bound behind his back, the other magically paralyzed in such a way that it would hold the cup but nothing else. He hesitated, staring out of the large tower. He remembered climbing up here as a child, seeking refuge from the boredom of everyday life. How ironic that his favorite place of escape was now to become where his life-sentence of servitude would start.

He took the goblet, examining it as one would an enemy. Sniffing it, Nathaniel blanched, but saw only two choices. Drink the goblet and either die or be pressed into service for the remainder of his life, or don't drink the goblet and be cast out from the top of the tower by an angry dwarf.

"I hope I die." Nathaniel took the goblet, letting his curiosity get the better of him. He drank it slowly, relishing the burning taste, the fire rushing down his throat as it reached within him, the taint taking hold.

Immediately he dropped the glass, his vision becoming blurry, his legs becoming weak. Migraines tore through his skull as he bent over, everything around him going dark.

ooo

Pain. Images of death, pain, destruction besieged him every angle. To his left a woman and her child were impaled upon spears. To his right an innocent man had templar swords run through him. Fire burned villages, towns, farms, people. Fire consumed all.

And above the din rose a song, beautiful, harmonic. Every note brilliantly accompanied by another, a perfect soliloquy of emptiness and despair given musical shape. Nathaniel found himself drawn to it, his steps ignoring the death around him, focusing instead upon the music.

He walked for miles in darkness and pain, it seemed, but finally there was a light. Within the darkness sat a girl in a black dress, who sat atop a rock whilst gazing wistfully at the night sky. She was surrounded by dark forms, raising and falling as if in praise... or perhaps fear. She turned slowly, smiling softly as Nathaniel approached.

"Where am I?" Nathaniel blurt out immediately, hoping he seemed intimidating enough to the girl to get an answer. He wasn't sure why, but she seemed off, different from all else about him. He sensed something within her, but knew not what.

"Don't ask questions, Nathaniel." The girl said softly. She stood slowly, jumping from the rock. Instantly the sea of shadows parted, giving her a wide berth as she approached Nathaniel. "For you are not the one in need of answers."

"The hell if I'm not!" Nathaniel felt his anger rise. He walked the rest of the distance to the girl threateningly, but the shadows placed themselves between them, protecting her.

"No. There is another. The one who freed you." The girl looked away, as if sad. "He can see a great tragedy fast approach, yet chooses to idly watch, to play games with mortal lives. He has tasted freedom and become seduced by it. He has forsaken his responsibility as a god amongst men."

"Speak sense!" Nathaniel clenched his fists, annoyed by her vague speech.

"The one who should be dead. The one I brought back from death." The girl looked at him again, approaching slowly. The shadows parted as she steadily grew closer. Soon she stood directly in front of Nathaniel, her piercing heterochromic eyes boring into Nathaniel's mind. "He has tasted power and fallen in love with it. He has destroyed the demon, but destroyed himself in the process. I should have foreseen this."

"What is this?" Nathaniel backed away a step. "Who are you?"

"I am part of you, for you have drank of my blood." The girl turned away, waving her hand. The shadows again surrounded her as Nathaniel felt himself fall away from everything. Whatever this torturous landscape was, it was dissipating. "And know this, mortal. There is one who must be redeemed. There is one who wishes revenge. Your life has greater meaning than you know, but tragedy mars it."

"Why!" Alarmed, Nathaniel forced his mind to refocus on the scenes about him. "What tragedy will befall me!"

"Not your tragedy, but it is a tragedy to you. Indeed, you will live a long time, mortal." The girl vanished, the scene disappearing, leaving him with only her final words.

"But you will never be happy."

ooo

Nathaniel forced his eyes open, slowly returned to his senses. After a moment, he realized he was laying on the floor of the tower with Darius standing over him, offering a hand to the fallen Warden.

"Piss off." Nathaniel slapped the hand away, sitting up himself. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"I may be a Warden," Nathaniel said slowly, gazing across the tower. "But you do not have my loyalty."


	5. Drunk

_Now THIS was an entertaining chapter to write. I hope you enjoy it just as much. Anyways, if you read this, please (and I mean PLEASE) review. I want to hear back from my readers, after all. Even the simple act of reviewing goes a long way to making an author such as myself feel happy._

_This is my longest chapter yet, though it's really not that long compared to my other chapters. I hope you enjoy it!_

**Chapter 4: Drunk**

_At first there were five women. Then there were six, each contorting their bodies in ecstasy as the massive orgy continued, unabated. Oghren grinned, the center of it all, the epitome of sexual dominance. Branka, Felsi, Mardy, Teli, Morrigan and Leliana swarmed him, hounded him. They demanded his body as each struggled to deny the others the extreme pleasure of Oghren's massive manhood._

_ "Alright, alright, ladies. One at a time." Oghren snorted as he laughed, motioning for Felsi first. "Trust me, I can keep going long enough for all of you."_

_ As Felsi moved closer, the other women fought briefly, dissatisfied by how they weren't first. But they continued with their gyrating, each falling back into the collective mind-merge of large scale pleasure._

_ Oghren sighed, grabbing Felsi just above her hips. He neared slowly, relishing every moment, ready to sheathe his sword and quell the lust of this insatiable strum-_

ooo

"Maker's breath, Oghren! Put some damned pants on, at least!" The dwarf felt himself jerk awake, instinctively retracting his hands from his lower body regions. Oghren stared around blankly for a second before realizing Anders stood over him, a horrified expression on his face.

"You ain't ever see a man have fun before, pretty boy?" Oghren grunted, searching for his pants. Always the damned pants. Even with the dog gone, they still managed to disappear every time he fell asleep.

"You call that fun?" Anders backed away, shaking his head. Oghren didn't really get why. "I call it a chemical hazard." The mage shivered, disgusted. "Darius sent me to tell you he needs to talk to you, but forgive me while I regurgitate my breakfast."

Anders ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Grunting while sitting up, then heaving his ass to the edge of the bed, Oghren absently looked about him, the hangover only now hitting him with full force.

"Bloody stone, you'd think the headaches would get better if I'm getting drunk every night." Oghren complained, reaching for his tunic, which lay on the nightstand next to his bed.

But there were perks to being a Warden. One of which was the free booze – always a nice touch to Oghren – and another was the free, private room. Back in the army in Orzammar he bunked with the men, which often led to awkward situations considering Oghren's frequent drunkenness... and how he often lost his pants.

"That boy doesn't know how easy he got it. Hehe." Oghren stood, slipping the tunic over his head, jamming it over his beer-belly with some slight difficulty. He strode to a mirror, looking himself – naked from the waist down – over in the mirror before sighing, exasperated about how he looked. "Bleeding nug pellets, but I'm getting old. Fat too. No wonder Branka took to carpet munching."

Oghren walked back to the night stand, still looking for his pants. Though the dwarf wasn't sure why, people tended to scream when he walked about with his manhood jingling about, so he had to cover it up. Not that Oghren cared if people screamed upon the sight of him – in fact he preferred it – but he usually ended up in jail or getting yelled at. Or drunk, but most situations usually ended that way anyways.

Oghren stopped short after noticing a letter lying atop the stand face down. He must not have noticed it before as the parchment was browned, giving it a similar hue to the desk. He opened it carefully, examining the contents.

"Heh. It's a letter to his wife." It took him awhile, but the dwarf finally read the letter through. He set it down gently, sobering slightly from the content.

It was addressed to the wife of a former Grey Warden, one that was killed in the attack by The Withered. From the looks of it, he had been in the midst of composing it when the darkspawn attacked, leaving it unfinished.

Oghren's first thought was that now the Warden's wife was single – which was always a good thing – but the second was that his room wasn't entirely his – not yet. Now that he thought about it, the stench of the other Warden hung over everything. The clothes hanging in the closet, the hardwood floors, the dresser, the nightstand, the bed. His presence seemed to be all around him, suffocating him.

"Need a damned drink..." Oghren said, finally spying his pants, which lay atop a drawer just short enough to reach. He hurried to them, sliding the thin material over his junk and fastening the belt at his waist. "Where'd my drinking flask go?"

Oghren walked to the door, flinging it open, annoyed at the loss of his alcohol. He hesitated in the hallway. Looking back at the letter, Oghren approached it, glancing over the parchment. Again the presence seemed to surround him, but Oghren blocked it out.

After snatching the letter and stuffing it into his pocket, Oghren huffed, exiting the room again, slamming the door.

Stone be damned, he needed a drink.

ooo

"That's the gist of the situation, Commander. All in all, it isn't looking good." Oghren leaned against the door, studying Darius as he talked to two strange humans. One, an older lady with breasts like paper sacks, and the other, a young man in full dragonscale armor, a large sword sheathed on his back. Darius sat on the throne, examining them as they spoke.

"Your theories are nothing but rubbish, Garavel. The Commander must take action, not rely upon the rumors of a drunken scouting party." The woman spoke sharply. Oghren snickered as the other man, Garavel, looked slightly taken aback.

"Mistress Woolsey, with all due respect to your seniority," Garavel seemed like a confident man, but Oghren couldn't help but notice his insecurities around Woolsey. Oghren chuckled again, snorting. "You cannot assume these rumors are baseless. Colbert and his companion were very clear about the sheer number of darkspawn they saw in the Knotwood Hills."

"Yet there is much more legitimate threat in the Wending Woods. Our trading caravans are being attacked!" Woolsey exclaimed, surprising Oghren. He didn't think elder humans were capable of showing large amounts of emotion. "Mervis of Amaranthine has suffered enough losses as to make the future of the Mercant's Guild uncertain. Something must be done and quickly."

"Trade matters little if we have an army of darkspawn knocking down out doors, Mistress Woolsey." Oghren could tell Garavel was trying to be calm, but his anger was starting to show.

"So I am left with two choices." The two immediately stopped bickering when Darius spoke. "Either send men to clear the Pilgrim's Path of whatever is killing the soldiers or send them to Knothole Woods."

"I trust you know what is the correct choice, my lord." Mistress Woolsey bowed, backing away. "But I must take my leave. The nobles will be arriving soon to swear fealty to you, and I must make sure their accommodations are acceptable."

Both Darius and Garavel stared silently after Woolsey as she exited the throne room. After the door shut behind her, Garavel spoke again.

"So what will it be, commander?" Garavel asked. Darius paused for a moment, thinking. Oghren sighed, wondering why the commander thought about things before doing them. Thinking was a sodding waste of time.

"I will go to the Wending Woods personally." Darius said finally, to the surprise of both Oghren and Garavel. "Send soldiers to Knotwood hills to investigate the supposed Deep Roads entrance. Woolsey is right in not trusting rumors, but in these dark times we must be cautious."

"We don't have many men to spare, but I will see what I can do." Garavel nodded, bowing before turning away. He too left the room, leaving Darius and Oghren alone in the throne room.

"The mage said you wanted to see me, Commander." Oghren approached slowly, annoyed by how sober he was. If only he had that damned flask back... but Mhairi fell off the balcony with it after she got run through. A great way to lose it, but that didn't excuse the fact that it was lost.

"Yes. It's about the matter of your constant drunkenness." From Darius' tone of voice, Oghren could tell this conversation wasn't going to be full of praise for the ol' dwarf. He knew this tone. He'd been lectured before. "I believe it's going to be an issue if you're more drunk than capable most of the time. I can't depend on a drunken dwarf to lead men or command respect."

"Trust me, commander." Oghren snorted. "I'm better drunk than not. Sure, I may throw up on babies or get enraged at the smallest sodding thing but, ancestors honor, I'd stab the baby and crush whatever annoyed me if I'm sober."

"Which is precisely what I'm worried about." Darius shook his head. "I will not punish you yet, as I do not know exactly how much truth is behind that statement, but know that I am going to be watching you. Carefully."

"Commander!" Both Wardens turned as a newcomer ran into the room, panting. She looked flustered and panicked, but Oghren couldn't help but notice her armor was just a slight bit too tight in just the right places.

"What?" Darius snapped, stopping her in her tracks. "Speak quickly, Private. It better be good to excuse this interruption."

"S-S-Seargent Maverlies sent me. She said that darkspawn pooled together in the basement of the Keep. They were beaten by the guards, but she's afraid there are more further within." Oghren snapped to attention, reaching for his axe.

"Darkspawn, you say? Hehe." Oghren smiled as he spoke, shaking his head. "I could use a bit of fun."

"Get Anders and Nathaniel." Darius stood quickly, grabbing his weapons and running after the private. "Meet me at the entrance to the basement!"

"Got it, commander." Oghren saluted, though Darius was already gone. He turned towards the other door, thinking he could find Anders in the kitchens. A glint of metal caught his eye, and Oghren turned.

His drinking flask lay on the throne, as it had been positioned behind Darius when he was sitting, hiding it from view. Oghren picked it up, shaking it and smiling when he saw it was near full.

"Finally, I found you." Oghren kissed the flask fondly, then strapped it to his belt.

By the time he found Anders, Oghren was nearly falling over drunk.

ooo

The alcohol washed away the pain, just as it always did, but Oghren always felt something missing. Maybe he just wasn't getting drunk enough? Yeah. That was it. Next time he'll drink 6 pints more than last.

"Sod it all." Oghren took a large swig, feeling the familiar, comforting burn of the clear liquid as it cleared his esophagus. "But this place looks like I just got through with it."

The hallway itself was littered by corpses – darkspawn and human alike, though Oghren did notice a few elves here and there – and blood pooled on the floor, covering the walls. All around them was death, as if there had been some large battle here.

"Looks like some of the guards tried to hold this entrance during the battle." Darius noted. Oghren didn't miss the grim tone in his voice, despite the happy scenery. "They didn't last long enough, unfortunately."

Darius led the group as they slowly moved down the dark hallway, illuminated only by a magical light Anders conjured. Oghren hung behind, occasionally veering off and hitting the walls. Oghren chuckled, amused by how he couldn't even walk in a straight line and how funny it was to see how oddly contorted some of these bodies were.

"Hey Nathaniel, hehe. Check out that one!" Oghren pointed at a peculiarly positioned body, the head of which was half torn off, its foot wrapped around its body and resting inside the open neck. One of its arms was torn off, while the other had its hand over its crotch. "He liked playing rough, I bet."

"Truly." Nathaniel barely responded, not even bothering to look at it. Oghren chuckled, now feeling somewhat awkward. He had moments like this back in Orzammar. Ever since Branka left and he lost his right to bear arms, Oghren was always either being ignored, laughed at or fought with. Not that he cared, he told himself. At least he could kill whatever sodding messed with him now, right?

He took another swig of alcohol as Darius finally reached the end of the hallway. He drew his swords, rushing away, followed by Anders. Relieved that he would finally have some fun, Oghren laughed, pulling out his axe.

Roaring a battle cry that sounded distinctly like small animals dying, Oghren charged through the door, ramming his axe into the head of a nearby hurlock, splitting it to the neck. He didn't bother to dislodge it, simply tearing out of the side of its neck as he sliced at another hurlock. The blade of his axe cut deep into its stomach, the contents emptying onto the floor as it stumbled, thrashing as it died.

Oghren laughed, drinking some more of his alcohol while a genlock charged him. He yelled, slamming the flat of the axe against the genlock's sword, knocking it away and opening it for a deadly chop to its torso, splitting it in two.

In his drunken rage, the dwarf failed to protect his flank, however. He snarled as he felt the bite of a hurlock sword plunge into his ass between two plates of his dwarven plate armor. Oghren turned, swinging his axe in a wide arc, but missed. Oddly enough, the hurlock had already moved behind him, stabbing into his shoulder, though leaving only a scratch on his armor.

"Sodding phantom darkspawn!" Oghren yelled, swinging again and missing. He couldn't even get a good look at the thing. Finally, the blows stopped, and Oghren turned as a light blue form disappeared into the hallway on the other side of the room, a low moan escaping from its direction. Seeing no other darkspawn to kill, Oghren took a swig of alcohol, belching nice and loud afterward.

"What in Andraste's ass was that?" Anders wondered quietly, pulling his staff from a hole in a darkspawn's neck while gazing in its direction. "A fade demon? A shade?"

"Aren't you supposed to know such things, mage?" Nathaniel slung his bow over his shoulder, pulling arrows from the corpses of the various darkspawn. "If you can't tell, then what's the point of having you come along?"

"For my cheery wit and happy demeanor, just like you." Anders shot back. Oghren didn't pay much attention, instead looking at the hallway the strange specter had vanished down. It was... familiar.

Instantly Oghren felt a memory resurface. Through the grungy muddiness of his drunken mind he saw an image appear, that of a demon in the Deep Roads. Adrian had gathered the pieces of an ancient demon, fitting them together in some strange blood ritual. The two spirits – the one that appeared back then and the one that appeared just a few moments before – gave him the same uneasy feeling.

Adrian had let the demon go. Had it returned?  
"It's a pride demon." Oghren felt himself blurt out, though for a moment he wasn't sure if he had actually said it or simply thought it. Judging from the stares of the others, he assumed he had spoken it.

"The dwarf makes a more accurate observation than you, mage." Nathaniel sneered. "It seems he may not be a lost cause after all. But you, Anders, certainly are."

"I'll be sure to write that down in my journal as I cry myself to sleep." Anders shot back dryly. Oghren stifled laughter.

He looked about the room, examining the broken casks, barrels and the numerous bodies. It wasn't large, so the floor was nearly entirely covered with corpses. _Just how I like it_, Oghren thought absently, before noticing movement at the other side of the room. A mabari lay there, licking the blood from a dead darkspawn, whining softly.

"I recognize that dog..." Nathaniel spoke, bending down next to it. He pet it softly, trying to comfort it. After a moment it relaxed, nudging towards a note tied to its leg.

"It'll be a dead dog soon." Oghren huffed, walking towards Nathaniel and the mabari. "Might as well put it out its misery."

Nathaniel started to protest, but Oghren's axe came down, severing the dog's neck from body. Nathaniel stared at the dwarf, then at the dog, apparently unsure how to react. It took him a long moment to react, during which Oghren found himself shifting uncomfortably.

"The note was from Adria..." Nathaniel finally said, turning towards the door, apparently ignoring what just happened. "She was a maid in the Vigil, and it says she's scared and alone. She was like a mother to me. We need to find her."

"I don't see how it detracts from the mission of killing the darkspawn here." Darius spoke coldly, opening the door to the next room. "Let's go."

The three Wardens fell in step behind the commander. Oghren thought it might just be because of his drunkenness, but he could swear Nathaniel kept looking at him, staring angrily. However, whenever he turned to the Howe, the man's eyes were turned forward.

They were walking for a few minutes before Darius stopped suddenly, pressing his ear against a door up ahead. He listened carefully, signaling the other three to be quiet. A moment passed in silence, then two. Oghren found himself growing annoyed, tapping his foot, running his hand on his axe head, doing anything just to keep himself entertained.

"What in the sodding blazes are we waiting for!" Oghren finally shouted, letting his drunken impatience overrule his orders. Darius urgently told him to be quiet, but to no avail. "Tear down the damned door and kill whatever is inside already!"

As if on cue, the door burst open, but not because of Darius. A fleshy mass appeared there, shrieking wildly as it struck at Darius, who barely managed to defend himself as he tried to crawl to his feet. More of them crawled through the doorway, their disgusting and twitching maws shaking with madness and rage. They resembled humans but... corrupted. Changed.

"Ghouls!" Darius shouted, finally regaining his footing. Oghen charged, yelling as he swung his axe down on the head of one of the deformed creatures, tearing it in two. He spun, taking the arm off of another with his axe, but it still came on, the madness of the taint destroying its sense of pain.

"What in the Maker's name?" Oghren heard Nathaniel shout as two of his arrows embedded themselves in a nearby ghoul, yet the creature didn't fall, its charge instead gaining momentum. Oghren shouted, lashing out with his axe, tearing the armless ghoul in two, then striking at the head of the other ghoul. Axe bit through skin, bone and brain, tearing a long, fatal gash down its back.

"Gotta hit it harder, kid!" Oghren shouted at Nathaniel, who drew his sword. The dwarf turned, wading back into the fray as even more of the disgusting, twitching creatures pulled themselves through.

Oghren felt the drunkenness give way to rage, the familiar flow of battle, the grip of the axe, the way his beard swung, the sweat on his balls. He recognized it all, letting the berserker's way guide his actions. In other words, he was striking madly, tearing apart anything that came near.

As he struck down another of the tainted creatures, Oghren saw a large form lurch through the doorway, roaring. It looked like two men, two ghouls, had grown together, joined together at the shoulders and hips and possessing only one head. It rippled with muscle and taint, its skin covered with festering, blackened boils.

Oghren shouted, charging at the giant newcomer. Two of Nathaniel's arrows pierced its chest, but the thing didn't even notice. It swung one large, misshapen arm at Oghren. The blow landed heavily, launching the dwarf – armor and all – into the side wall. Oghren felt his breath escape him, but recovered in time to run away from another blow.

Another arrow buried into the gargantuan mass of flesh, this time striking an eye. The ghoul roared, charging towards Nathaniel. Seeing a chance, Oghren rushed forward, jumping into the air as he slashed at the back of the ghoul with his axe. It cut deep and, feeling something snap, Oghren pulled out, hanging onto its back as it fell. He finished the thing with a head-splitting chop, sending tainted brain matter across the floor. When Oghren stood, the room had been cleared. Darius sliced the front open of the last remaining ghoul, ending the fight.

"Those are ghouls?" Anders spoke quietly, examining the misshapen and horrendously deformed corpses. Some had three arms, others with two heads. None looked distinctly human, though they may have been as such once. "What a terrible thing to become. Losing your mind, your body... your devilishly good looks..."

"Beauty means nothing in the face of death, it seems." Nathaniel said, following Darius as he entered the next room. Anders shrugged before following, while Oghren stared at a certain odd-looking corpse, enraptured by its positioning.

"Looks like he's giving himself some loving." Oghren chuckled, running after the rest of the Wardens.

ooo

"Please! Please just let us out!" Oghren kicked the door as hard as he could, to no avail. The prisoner's whining grated on his ears, but he tried to focus on the ancient stone portal Darius told him to open.

"Why? You are prisoners. There's a reason you're down here." Darius replied, his voice even and calm, as usual. Oghren sometimes felt as if that voice actually unnerved people, though he never experienced it himself.

"They might have been falsely imprisoned, though." Anders piped up, arms folded as he gazed at them. Oghren turned, annoyed by his impossible task. He spied Nathaniel, who was busy picking arrows from the corpses of ghouls.

There had been a large number of the sodding things in the prisoner's chamber, along with a strange, blackened door that a few of the ghouls popped out of, yet none of the Wardens could get the door open. Still, the fight was fun. Oghren chuckled as he remembered impaling one of the ghouls against a spike protruding from the wall.

Roaring, Oghren raised his axe, slamming it down upon the door. A large chunk of metal broke off and Oghren smiled triumphantly, before realizing the metal was a shard from his axe. He stared at it in shock, surprised.

"Commander, it's impossible." Oghren approached Darius, who was busy staring at the whining prisoners. "The blighted door just won't open."

"Then leave it. We're done here." Darius stalked to the door, ignoring the cries and pleading of the prisoners, who begged from behind the bars. Finally, Darius turned, glaring at them. He spoke slowly, menacingly. "If you truly wish to be free, be my guest to be caught and slaughtered by these twisted creatures. If you don't die a horrible, painful, slow death, then you will turn into one of them, a monstrosity worthy only of death. Believe me when I say that it is you prisoners who have it lucky, for I am a prisoner of the duty bound to me as a Grey Warden, yet I can never escape."

They fell silent. A few looked down, ashamed. Oghren smiled, patting the commander on the back. Darius forced open the door on the far side, which led to the rest of the underground.

"What about the sodding black door?" Oghren motioned to the strange, glyph engraved portal he couldn't get open.

"Leave it. We need to clear these tunnels." Darius walked through the door, Oghren close behind. Nathaniel ran ahead, squinting into the darkness.

"Mage, light up the hallway ahead of us." Nathaniel said, still squinting, motioning for Anders to cast some spell.

"Thief, I'll give right on it." Anders rolled his eyes and Oghren chuckled, noticing and enjoying the annoyed expression on the blonde warden's face.

Anders lowered his hands, weaving them back and forth together, then bringing them above his head. He finally separated his hands, a large burst of light escaping from his fingertips, filling the room. Oghren squinted against the large amount of light before realizing there was a figure standing a slight distance away, just in front of a collapsed section of wall. She stood with her head bowed, her brown hair falling over her shoulders.

Her hair and clothes were matted with blood and a longsword hung loosely from her left hand. She turned slowly, her mouth moving imperceptibly.

"_The creator visited us today._"The woman spoke slowly, her words giving a slight sing-song feel. Oghren found himself staring at her considerable bust instead of listening, though. "_We felt illustrious, even as we ate._"

"Adria?" Nathaniel stepped forward cautiously. Oghren felt warning bells go off in his head, and he readied his axe. "No... Adria... We have to help her. Darius, is there anything we can do?"

"_We feasted well on blood tasting of souffle._"Adria continued, her head still hanging. Nathaniel approached slowly, speaking to her softly. "_For once we thought the hunger would abate!_"

"What terrible rhymes." Anders shook his head. "She's gone mad from the taint, it seems."

"There's nothing we can do." Darius approached, drawing his sword. "She must be slain so that the taint will not spread to others. Nathaniel, back away."

"No!" Nathaniel drew his own sword as he stood between Adria and the Warden-Commander, pointing it threateningly towards Darius. "I can't let you kill her."

"_Four of them thought they could give me pity._"Adria raised her head, staring at Nathaniel. The other three noticed, but Nathaniel just kept his sword angrily pointed at the commander. "_Oh, how we desire as we stare at them hungrily._"

Nathaniel let out a shout as Adria pounced upon him from the back. Oghren ran forward, chopping at the ghoul, but she had already retreated, pinning herself against the collapsed wall.

"You've got nowhere to run, you stone-cursed blightress." Oghren laughed, swinging his axe overhead. Adria ducked out of the way as Oghren's axe dug into the stone.

"Apparently we don't either!" Oghren heard Anders call. The dwarf turned as ghouls poured into the room from behind. They must have come from behind that blasted door.

Oghren shouted, tearing his axe from the wall and charging the nearest ghoul, which had another head growing out of the top of its own. He sliced into the air, taking off an arm, then a leg. The thing stumbled, thrashing, but Oghren brought his axe down, severing head (or heads) from body.

But there was another five to take its place. Oghren shouted, swinging his axe towards the nearest one. The thing caught the axe, gripping the flat of the blade securely from both sides. Oghren wrestled it for control of blade while also trying to dodge the clawing, raking strikes of the other ghouls, which stumbled over their own, misshapen body parts as they reached for him.

A blast of fire knocked a few away, scorching the ghoul with a handhold on Oghren's axe. Making use of the surprise, he thrust downwards, cutting a gash down the ghoul's chest. Then he ripped upwards, tearing the front hemisphere of its head in half.

Oghren looked approvingly towards the mage, but Anders was already focused on another ghoul. The mage slammed his staff into its head once, then twice, crushing it, teeth and eyes popping out.

Nathaniel was only then starting to recover, reaching for his sword while staring at the battle. Likely, Oghren thought, he was searching for Adria. She wasn't hard to miss, however. She fought Darius, her single sword somehow fast enough to match up with both of the commander's blades.

Oghren yelled, chopping another ghoul in two. More and more fell beneath his blade, but there seemed to be even more filling their places. Ghouls everywhere, packing the small hallway with their disgusting, mutated appearance.

"Slide it up yours, blighted bastard!" Oghren shouted, taking the head off a ghoul with three arms and four legs. He charged for Adria, cutting the leg off a ghoul as he passed by. Darius looked over at him briefly, jumping back when he realized what the dwarf was doing.

Adria didn't react in time. She turned just as Oghren was close enough to strike. The ghoul tried to block the swing, but too slowly. The axe tore through her torso, ripping her in half through the middle of her chest. Her top half spun through the air, coming to rest a few feet away. The lower half simply fell over.

The ghouls started panicking, but they didn't get far. Without the head, the body simply thrashes blindly. With Adria, the leader of this pack of ghouls, lying dead, they devolved into unthinking beasts, turning on one another in a mad bid to escape.

After a few moments they all lay dead or dying.

"Adria..." Nathaniel crouched over the corpse of the ghoul. Even Oghren didn't miss the shocked and horrified expression on his face.

The dwarf walked over, unhooking the flask of alcohol from his belt. He handed it the Howe, turning his head so as to appear disinterested.

"Thank you, good dwarf." Nathaniel took the flask, tilting his head back as he put the flask to his lips. When he gave it back, the flask was empty.

"No problem, kid. Now quit your pouting." Oghren said brusquely, turning away.

ooo

"Don't you worry, commander." Voldrik Glavonak saluted sharply to Darius before delivering a disgusted look to Oghren. "My men will have the blockage cleared in a week or so, provided everything goes smoothly. We'll also look into the stone door you mentioned."

"You have my most gracious thanks, good dwarf." Darius extended his hand, which Voldrik took eagerly. "Inform me as soon as the work is done."

Voldrik marched off, a motley crew of dwarves and humans following behind him. Oghren sighed, reaching for his flask. He brought it to his lips, only to realize – for the third time in the last fifteen minutes – that it was empty.

"Last time I'm giving anyone my private stash." Oghren huffed, stalking off.

By the stone, he hated being sober.


	6. Politics

_Due to a recent change in my life, chapters will be uploaded much more slowly than they have been previously. I honestly don't know how long it will take for me to write the next chapter because of this change. Despite that, know that I will eventually complete this story. Things should be back to normal within a week or two (though hopefully sooner)._

_As always, please... PLEASE review. Opinions are like assholes, so I know all of you have them. Please tell me about them (opinions, I mean). Anyway, enjoy!_

**Chapter 5 – Politics:**

"Maker's breath, girl. How did you possibly clean the entire western wing in a few hours?" Groundskeeper Samuel shook his head, feeding Myr's pride. "For a new girl, you're pretty good."

"I work fast." Myr said simply, smiling at the older elf. What she didn't mention was how her magic did most of the work for her, but she figured that was information that Samuel didn't need to know.

"Well, head cook Maria wanted to see you when you were done, but since you moved so fast, you've got quite a bit of free time." Samuel turned away, picking up his pitchfork. "Don't get in too much trouble, girl."

"Thanks Samuel!" Myr smiled at him before leaving the garden, heading straight to the Vigil. She had everything timed perfectly, Myr realized, when she saw Oghren drunkenly stagger out into the morning light, heading to the throne room.

He was a contemptuous thing, that Oghren. Myr shuddered, thinking of the numerous times she had seen him grope the other serving girls. When he tried to grope Myr, he received a well-rounded slap for his efforts, but that didn't excuse his lecherous behavior.

"Men..." Myr sighed, realizing she was lucky Saul didn't focus on those sorts of things.

But maybe that wasn't a good thing. Saul had seemed obsessed lately with the object of his revenge. He'd tracked Nathaniel down to Vigil's Keep, waiting to kill him only so that he could discover the location of Delilah Howe.

That was Myr's job. Watch and observe Nathaniel, so that the location of Delilah could be found. Still, Saul's sudden obsession disturbed her. For nearly a month after the fall of Adrian in Denerim, Saul seemed content with ignoring his vendetta. He and Myr had traveled nearly to Orzammar when he suddenly had a change of heart.

They arrived in Vigil's Keep a day after the darkspawn attack and Myr quickly positioned herself within the serving staff. She was close to the Wardens on a near daily basis, often cleaning up after their meals, cleaning their rooms or serving their food. The Wardens were a peculiar bunch, though.

Anders, the mage, was constantly joking around and casually flirting. He was good looking, Myr had to admit, but he seemed incapable of taking things serious. His demeanor was entirely opposite of Saul, who was in serious mode most, if not all, of the time.

Oghren, the lecherous fool, couldn't keep his hands to himself. If Myr was to completely discount his wandering habits, she'd still think him a disgusting bastard. He drank ludicrous amounts of alcohol and was constantly making foul references to his sexual organs.

Darius was considerably more composed. In fact, too much so. Myr hardly saw much emotion from the guy. He'd smile occasionally, laugh sometimes, but most of the time he acted like a machine, just staring, taking in information. He was polite to a fault, but sometimes it seemed as if he stared right through people. Myr never felt secure in her ruse around him.

Nathaniel was what Myr didn't expect at all. Despite the fact that he lied about his name – which Myr saw right through – he then tried to kill Oghren, lost, then got recruited into the Wardens! Despite that, he was incredibly polite, even to elves, often referring to the serving girls as ladies. Myr would have thought it to be some shoddy come-on, but he seemed to genuinely think of elves as equals. Yet Saul wanted nothing more than to kill him. Every time Myr looked at him, she seemed less certain about assisting in his death.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

But Myr knew enough of betrayal to be cautious of Nathaniel. R told her to never trust anyone, especially those that appeared the best. Often, he told her, it is those that seem the best behaved that must be watched most carefully, for they are the ones self-conscious enough to be hiding something.

Myr slipped inside the Keep, keeping one eye trained on the drunken oaf, Oghren. He lost his balance quite often, but only seemed to laugh about it after. He was truly an idiot.

Myr stopped as they neared the throne room. Oghren leaned against the door, listening to Darius, Mistress Woolsey and Captain Garavel speak.

Without a proper Seneschal, Darius had been giving himself a great deal of work, Myr realized. Not only did he have to deal with politics and nobles, but he needed to be kept up to date on all the mundane affairs of the Keep.

As Myr listened to Garavel and Woolsey bicker to Darius about whether to send troops to the Wending Woods or Knotwood Hills, she couldn't help but wonder why Darius didn't just appoint someone as Seneschal. Maybe there was nobody capable left, what with the darkspawn attack?

Finally, Darius made a decision. Surprisingly, he said he would be heading the Wending Woods himself and that soldiers would search Knotwood Hills. Myr edged closer to the door when Oghren finally approached Darius.

Myr cursed, feeling a stabbing pain in her leg. She looked down, seeing a deepstalker growling, its worm-like maw digging into her leg. She fell back, kicking the creature away, while drawing her bleeding leg under her.

It was Tez, a pet that belonged to Darius. Maybe not a pet, since this thing could kill, but it certainly acted like one around Darius and, oddly enough, Anders. To everyone else, this thing was feral.

"Shoo!" Myr whispered, waving her hand at the thing, hoping Darius and Oghren wouldn't overhear. They were discussing something about Oghren being drunk causing Myr to hope absently that Oghren would get punished.

Tez suddenly looked alert, gazing into the throne room. Myr heard a woman panting, talking about darkspawn below the Keep. Instantly Darius and Oghren bounded away. Tez ran to follow, but Myr intercepted it, tackling the deepstalker.

"Finally, I found you." Myr turned, surprised, before diving for a dark corner of the hallway just as Oghren stepped out of the throne room, taking a large drink from the flask. Tez squirmed in her arms, struggling to get out of her grasp.

Myr held the deepstalker tight, right arm pressing its body against her with her right hand clamped around its mouth, the left arm securing it in place. It thrashed, but Myr held tight, until Oghren disappeared down the other end of the hallway.

"I've got you, you little bastard." Myr grinned down at the deepstalker. She stood, but Tez wriggled free of her grasp, biting her arm and running off in the direction Oghren took.

Myr took off after it, angered by the creature's insolence. She chased it into the kitchens, where numerous serving girls freaked out at the sight of the thing, then up a level where the Wardens slept before the darkspawn attack.

"Get back here!" Myr shouted at the deepstalker, which only barked, running into a room on the left side of the long hallway.

Thinking she had the thing trapped, Myr cautiously peered around the door. Tez stood in the center of the room, looking around somewhat frantically. Myr jumped inside, aiming for the creature. Instead, she found herself slipping on some liquid that she didn't notice before.

_Blood! _Myr thought as she slid on one foot awkwardly. She fell forward, out the window, and as she emerged into open air, Myr thought she could hear the deepstalker laughing, though she figured it must have been her imagination.

And so she fell, plummeting thirty feet to the ground.

ooo

Again, there was that damnable barking.

Myr tried to roll over, but found she hurt way too damn much. Opening her eyes, she was met with a more disgusting sight than she could imagine.

Tez stood over her face, panting, and Myr had a front row seat to the horror that was looking into a deepstalker's worm mouth. Multiple rows of sharp teeth presented themselves, weaving in a circular pattern inside the creature's mouth.

"Stupid mutt..." Myr struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that covered her entire body. The damned thing tricked her! "You could have killed me, Tez. You knew that blood was there. You knew I'd slip on it."

The deepstalker barked, bounding away a few feet. Myr stared at it angrily, wondering about how many ways one can cook a deepstalker.

"Outsmarted by a mindless worm-dog." Myr shook her head, struggling to get the dirt out of her hair. "Today just isn't my day. How lucky does a person have to be to not notice a pool of blood, slip and then fall out of a window, plummet 30 feet and wake up with a deepstalker panting over me?"

Tez barked as Myr fell backwards. What was the point in all of this? Where the hell was she, anyways? Myr sat back up, examining her surroundings.

From the looks of things, she had fallen into an unusually grassy alleyway somewhere on the eastern side of Vigil's Keep. Ahead of her a few people walked past, either oblivious of or uncaring of the bruised elf girl examining them.

"By the Maker, those ghouls were simply... disgusting." Myr struggled to stand, focusing on the familiar voice. Anders strode by the entrance of the alleyway, Nathaniel Howe next to him, staring forward and unresponsive.

"Indeed." Nathaniel said simply. Myr took a staggering step forward, only to fall to her knees. Nathaniel apparently noticed her out of the corner of his eye. He rushed over, looking her over. Anders followed, staring at Tez.

"There's that damned deepstalker. We could've used him in the fight against those ghouls." Anders rolled his eyes as Tez rubbed against his leg. "Oh no you don't. I'm not accepting any apologies from you. We could have avoided more than one ambush if you were doing your job."

"Are you okay, my lady?" Nathaniel crouched by Myr, extending a hand.

"I don't know, Nathaniel." Myr smirked as Nathaniel looked taken aback, undoubtedly surprised.

"You... knew I lied to you about my name?" Nathaniel asked sheepishly, helping Myr up. "My apologies, but at the time I felt it was necessary to hide who I was, considering what I was about to do. Besides that, what happened to you?"

"My job. Falling out windows and such. I'm fine, by the way." Myr brushed her hair out of her face. She knew she didn't look too great, but a girl had to appear at least halfway decent in most, if not all, situations. Still, she was thoroughly flustered, considering that damned deepstalker. Falling out windows doesn't make someone a happy camper.

"Are you sure?" Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow, but Myr just waved him off. "I mean, that wound on your arm looks pretty serious."

It was only then that Myr noticed she had a large shard of metal lodged in her forearm. Funny how one doesn't feel the pain until you look at the wound. Despite that, there seemed to be an unusually large amount of blood flowing out of it. Were elves allowed to lose that much blood?

"I... feel funny..." Myr staggered backwards as her vision started fading. Finally, she lost balance, falling forward, unable to understand Nathaniel's shouts.

ooo

When she awoke, Myr was surprised to see that, not only was she alive, but she had been resting in exquisite silk sheets in an intricately adorned room. Paintings hung from walls, the sheets were of a fine, deep red and a small fire crackled at the far side, a few yards from the door.

And there was a man in the room.

Instantly Myr checked to make sure she still had all her clothes on. Fortunately, they were all there. Unfortunately, they weren't the ones she had on before. Now she wore fine silks, considerably more comfortable than the rough fabrics from before.

The man, as she soon figured outt, was Nathaniel. He sat near the door, bow in hand, staring at the fire, apparently not noticing Myr had awakened. He was dressed in fine silks as well, some noble dress outfit, Myr guessed.

"Do not worry, my lady." Nathaniel spoke slowly, not even looking at her. Apparently he did notice. "I had Maria change you, as well as clean and dress your wounds. You're very lucky nothing was broken."

"Uh... thanks." Myr said quietly. Nathaniel got up slowly, heading to the door. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"I was ordered to stay away from the throne room while Darius is meeting with the nobles of Amaranthine." Nathaniel turned back to her. The two locked eyes for a moment and Myr found herself squirming under the weight of his gaze. It was powerful... and cold. "I grow tired of being shepherded by a Warden – an Orlesian, nonetheless – so I'm heading down there anyway."

"I'm going too." Myr struggled out of the sheets, planting both of her feet on the ground. She felt dizzy for a moment, but kept her composure.

"I would recommend otherwise, but it's your choice." Nathaniel walked over to her, helping her stand. "Just be careful not to get those clothes too dirty. They were my mothers."

Myr nodded dumbly as Nathaniel supported her. He was gentle, careful, and incredibly damned polite, considering Myr was an elf.

She was expected to help kill this man?

ooo

"Understand that I act as a Grey Warden first, before all else." Darius' voice rang over the throne room, holding the gazes of the numerous nobles in the room. "Do not think of me as Orlesian, or as a member of the Orlesian Imperial Court. I act as an Arl in Ferelden should with all the honor a true-born Ferelden has."

Myr stuck to the doorway by Nathaniel, catching the tail end of Darius' speech. Most of the nobles clapped, though Myr could see more than one turned their noses in disgust. Two in particular stood out: A woman with a pinched face, who obviously had been trying for years to disguise the effects of aging; and a drunk man near the back of the room, who swayed with intoxication.

Darius himself looked rather fancy, which was in stark contrast to how he normally did. Usually he strutted about in faded dragonskin leather armor, hiss identical swords always within easy reach. But now he only had one sword and was dressed in fine silks befitting a man of his station. Despite this, Myr could tell he looked uncomfortable in the formal garb.

Myr noticed Darius immediately head towards the drunk man as murmurs started popping up around the room. The elf hurried towards the drunk noble, trying to keep to the sides of the throne room to avoid being noticed.

"Is that Lord Guy?"

"What an idiot. Being drunk at an event like this..."

"I hear he hates Orlesians."

"Of course he does! His father died in the war!"

Myr finally popped out of the crowd of nobles, giving herself a front-row seat to whatever conflict was going to arise between Lord Guy and Darius. The Warden-Commander approached slowly, yet Lord Guy just sneered. When Darius finally grew close, Lord Guy laughed, spilling his wine on Darius' fancy tunic.

"Oops." Lord Guy snickered. "Sorry 'bout that."

Myr shuddered. His pompous voice and demeanor disgusted her. People like that, people who thought they could act in any manner to anybody they come across with no thought of consequences, had no problem provoking Myr's fury.

"Such disrespect!" Myr heard a noble behind her gasp.

"Oh shut up, woman. The Orlesian deserves it." Lord Guy, apparently, heard that comment.

"Yeah! That's right!" Lord Guy raised his arms, looking over the crowd that had surrounded him and the Warden-Commander. "This is a fucking Orlesian, yet we're expected to bend knee to him? It's the Occupation all over again. Spineless Orlesian pigs don't have the right to order us about, calling 'imself a Ferelden? Ferelden my granny's ass!"

"Guy! Hush already!" Another woman rushed to the drunken noble's side. Darius, still having said nothing, looked at her curiously.

"Shaddup, Morag." Guy stepped forward, pushing Darius. The Warden-Commander stepped back, still saying nothing. "This pushover won't do nothing to us. He's just a puppet for that Celene bitch over in Val Royeaux anyways."

Lord Guy spat out the name of the Orlesian capitol, with some of the spray hitting Darius. Myr had to give the Warden props for not simply executing the man, but she knew as well as anyone that could change fast.

"Guy!" Lady Morag tried to calm him down, but to no avail. Lord Guy pushed Darius again, this time nearly knocking him over. Darius coolly approached Guy as the drunk laughed.

"I gave you a chance to stop yourself, but it seems that didn't work." Darius drew his sword, leveling it to Lord Guy's neck. Immediately he stopped laughing and the room went silent. Myr found she was holding her breath, surprised. "You will leave. Now. If I so much as hear one more word of your worthless slander and drunken antics again, I will have your head on a pike. I may be new to court, but you will show me as much respect as any man is worthy of."

Lord Guy stumbled backwards, eyes wide. He looked about for support but, finding none, he ran off, whimpering. Lady Morag bowed to Darius before following him.

"Such an action may have dire consequences. Darius Caron does not know his place. We should alert our contact about this." Myr turned, hearing another noble speak in low tones. It was a large man in a fancy tunic whispering quietly to another pinched-face noblewoman. His skin was heavily tanned, but his accent was distinctly Ferelden.

"Indeed, Ser Temmerly." The lady replied, glancing at Darius. "I'm certain he will be interested in this turn of events. Guy will be easy to win over to our cause now."

"What about that traitor?" Ser Temmerly whispered as the crowd started filtering out again, dispersing across the room while they mingled. The two nobles migrated to a corner of the room, near the exit, out of sight for most. Myr cautiously followed, trying to make it seem as if she was simply admiring a painting, that of a beautiful woman.

"Ser Tamra?" The lady looked thoughtful for a second, before smiling evilly. "I think I know what you want. Go ahead. Indulge in your fancies. I'm certain you know how to convey her punishment."

"You impress me, my lady." Ser Temmerly bent down, kissing her hand. "Once all this is over, perhaps we should try and deviate our thoughts from this dark business. Have a little fun, I mean."

The lady turned suddenly, looking directly at Myr, anger on her face. "You! Elf! Why are you dressed in silks? Don't you know your place?"

"I'm just... I-" Myr started, but the pinched-face noble interrupted.

"You think I care about your excuses, you little bitch?" The woman approached. Ser Temmerly did as well, grabbing Myr by the ear. Myr gasped as the man twisted it painfully, which wasn't hard to do, as Myr's ears were fairly long, even for an elf. "Such disrespect! And among nobles! I'll have a word with your supervisor about this!"

"She's kinda pretty, though." Ser Temmerly grinned, staring lasciviously at her. "Let me take care of her, Lady Packton. I know exactly how to discipline these... upstarts. Besides, I suspect she might have heard a little bit of something she shouldn't have."

Myr tried to shout for help, but Ser Temmerly clamped his hand around her mouth, dragging her towards a side door. She looked around, panicking, but nobody so much as looked in her direction. Lady Packton stared at her, satisfied.

She spied Nathaniel on the other side of the room just before turning the corner. Myr tried to shout for help, but he didn't hear. He didn't even turn her way.

ooo

Myr hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. A few feet away, blocking the exit to the small alleyway, stood Ser Temmerly, a scabbard in one hand, a sword in the other. Myr scrambled to her feet in an attempt to make a dash for safety, but Ser Temmerly's scabbard caught her upside the face, knocking her back again.

"Oh no you don't, you feisty mynx." Ser Temmerly licked his lips, sending shivers up Myr's spine. She knew what was going to happen next and it wasn't pleasant. She had no weapons and thus no way to defend herself. Not to mention how she was already wounded from her fall, she had no way to free herself.

"Look, maybe we can work something out..." Myr backed away, but found her back hit the end of the alleyway. Ser Temmerly was smart when it came to this sort of thing. He picked a perfect location: Isolated, one exit that was easily blocked, a lot of open air to disperse screaming as well as the cover of night.

"Work something out? But we already have!" Ser Temmerly lashed out again, smacking Myr in the side of the face with his scabbard. He dug his sword in between Myr's legs when she hit the ground, temporarily paralyzing the elf with fear.

"You... you don't want to do this!" Myr's mind raced as she tried to think of a spell, any spell, that could get her out of this. She was tired, wounded, frightened and couldn't think clearly. She tried to crawl away, ripping her silk dress in process.

_So much for your mother's dress, Nathaniel._ Myr thought bitterly as another blow contacted her, this time on her arm. Still Ser Temmerly approached, leering at her, lust in his eyes.

"But I do. I do _so _badly. You're _very_ pretty, little elf." Ser Temmerly crouched over her, bringing his face mere inches from Myr's. She tried to withdraw, but he grabbed her wrists, bringing them up over her head, useless. She tried to kick at him, but he had her pinned.

"Somebody help me!" Myr felt tears form at the edges of her eyes as she shouted, but to no avail. Ser Temmerly pressed closer, smothering her lips with his, invading her mouth. Seeing no other option, she bit down, tearing deep into Ser Temmerly's tongue.

"You little bitch!" Ser Temmerly withdrew, holding one hand to his mouth as blood dripped out. "I'd prefer you alive, but I guess I have to make do otherwise!"

Ser Temmerly grabbed his sword, bringing it over his head. Myr closed her eyes, awaiting that final blow that would end her life.

But it never came.

Myr opened her eyes slowly, only to find Ser Temmerly was raised up in the air by some dark shape lurking behind him. Whoever, or whatever, had him gripped slammed Ser Temmerly into the wall, knocking him unconscious. The shape let go, letting the knight fall to the ground.

Cautious but grateful, Myr stood slowly, examining the newcomer, who stood over Ser Temmerly, a jagged sword gripped as though the shape was about to stab him. She looked him over, seeing a vague bit of familiarity in his features. He wore robes the color of pitch and a golden staff lay on the ground a few feet away, shining faintly in the dark.

"Adrian...?" Myr said as realization hit her suddenly. Though she had heard of his exploits, she hadn't actually seen the man in over two and a half years. But... he was supposed to be dead. A memory rushed through her head at that moment, that of the last time she saw him. It was at the doorway of the Circle Tower, moments before Myr ran away to her freedom. The memory of when she last kissed him, back when she had loved him.

"Looks like you remember me." Adrian lowered the sword slowly, sheathing it instead of running Ser Temmerly through. Myr wasn't sure if she should tell him to kill the man or not.

"You're dead, though." Myr stared disbelievingly at him, uncertain of how she should react. She had heard he died in Denerim, run through by R, who disappeared shortly afterward. "I mean, I thought you were. Everyone thinks you are."

"I had thought you dead as well, Myr." Adrian turned, locking eyes with her. Myr stepped back, surprised. "When Greagoir told me of your demise, I believed him. I hated the templars for what they had done to you. By extension, I even hated the Chantry."

"Your eyes..." Myr stared at him, uncertain. He seemed... different. "What happened to your eyes? They're supposed to be brown, not... red."

"Possession mutates people. Those who can barely even resist change their physical form dramatically, becoming deformed creatures known as abominations." Adrian shook his head as Myr started to realize what he was saying. "For us mages with more power, more ability to fight back, we can prevent that. The only cost I had was my natural eye color. If I had been as strong as Uldred I may have been completely unchanged, physically."

"Then you're... an abomination?" The words came out as barely a gasp. "But you don't seem like one. You don't even act like R did. I mean, he seemed pretty crazy sometimes, but you just seem... normal."

"It's been a long time since you escaped, Myr." Adrian suddenly seemed sad, further reinforcing Myr's idea that Adrian still possessed his mind. "Everyone changes given enough time. Nothing is immutable."

"I remember you used to say nobody ever changes." Myr smirked, before sighing. "But I guess you did."

She suddenly felt uncertain. She had avoided Adrian for so long because she had assumed him a tool of the Chantry ever since her "demise". A stupid rationalization, surely, but Adrian was also the reason why she traveled to Denerim in the first place, though events got wildly out of control once she actually arrived there. No small thanks to Saul for that, anyway.

"I guess I've proven myself wrong." Adrian turned away, picking up his staff as he walked to the end of the alleyway.

"Wait!" Myr rushed to his side, grabbing his arm. "You can't just leave like this! I haven't seen you in nearly three years! I mean, you're practically an abomination, aren't you? That's gotta be an interesting thing to talk about!"

"Why aren't you afraid?" Adrian asked, surprising Myr. She pondered it for a second, before glancing back at Ser Temmerly.

"I don't think I have to worry if you just saved me from him." Myr smiled. Adrian cocked an eyebrow, before breaking their eye contact by looking up at the night sky. For a second, Myr thought he looked confused, but the man's emotions were hard to read anyway.

"Forgive me, but there are things I must do. People I have to kill. That sort of thing." And Adrian turned away. Myr grabbed him again, pulling him back.

Surprised by this, Adrian overbalanced slightly, leaning over just enough for Myr to pull him close, kissing him. Maybe it was just because she was still freaked out about Ser Temmerly, maybe she was grateful, or maybe she still felt something for this phantom for her past, but Myr didn't immediately realize she might have made a mistake.

Still, Adrian returned in kind, dropping his staff and wrapping an arm around the elf. They held their position for a few moments before Adrian backed away, picking up his staff.

"This isn't the last time I'm ever going to see you, right?" Myr asked, her hand still on Adrian's arm. "I mean, we have a lot to catch up on. And I mean a lot."

"Maybe. Amaranthine has much to hold my interest for the time being." Adrain backed away, and this time Myr let him go. "Goodbye, Myr."

Myr tried to grab him again, but he had already disappeared. She stood there in the darkness, wondering what had just happened. Eventually, she walked away absently, not even bothering to so much as kick Ser Temmerly in revenge, let alone kill him.

It wasn't until later that she realized she technically just cheated on Saul. Myr cringed, but somewhere, inside of her, she felt as if she understood something.

That whatever was going to happen next would vastly overshadow whatever conflicting feelings she was getting. This wasn't just about helping Saul get his revenge anymore. Suddenly Myr was curious and she was in the perfect position to find more information. Events were unfolding that would change the face of Thedas forever.

She needed to find Adrian.


	7. Piety

_And here's the next chapter! This one was difficult to write, as insanity is not something that comes naturally to me. If you've read Righteous Vendetta, you'll know who the character that's narrating this chapter is. If not... well... sucks for you. Also, I am back in control of my life, so I will hopefully get back to a more natural rhythm of updating this story._

**Chapter 6: Piety**

Still the images invaded his mind. Each moment he closed his eyes, he saw her dead face. Every time he saw a smile, she came to him. Every laugh, every sob, every emotion brought her again. He saw her on the ground, her blood filling the gutter of the road.

There it was again. The shocked expression, the dagger sticking out of her eye. And he grew enraged. Myr caused this. Myr threw the dagger. Myr was the mage who deserved to die.

He had followed her, relishing the moment that he could plunge his sword into her heart. But still his confusion festered like an open, porous wound as infection slowly crept in. Where was The Maker? Why did He not come to his aid? With His almighty power, He could toss Myr into an eternal pit of fire so that she may burn for eternity. That was only fitting.

Yet He did not. The Maker was absent, and he knew not why. Where was his god?

Myr's face was always in his mind, ever alongside Justine's. Oh how he wished that the dagger was in the albino's eye, not Justine's. Oh how he wished he could turn back the clock, change events. The maleficarum did not deserve to live yet Justine, a holy and pure soul, lay dead.

The Chantry would not help him. The Templars would not help him. Without her phylactery, they said it would be next to impossible to track her down. They ordered him to return. He refused. They sent a messenger to drag him back.

He killed the boy, dragged his corpse through the mud and left it for the crows.

Without The Maker, they would not be bound by divine rules. They knew nothing. The Maker demanded judgment! The Maker would want to see Myr's head adorning a pike. The Maker would want to see birds peck her eyes out, swords plunged through her frail body. The Maker wanted revenge.

He had a divine duty as a templar. For being an apostate, she would be punished. For being a maleficarum, she would die. For killing Justine, she will pay. If not with her life, then with the lives of those around her. If not for theirs, then he will tear apart slowly. He will watch her scream, watch her thrash.

And he would laugh.

ooo

Aaron trudged through the dirt and mud. Weary. Alone. The sounds of sucking as he dragged his feet up from the ground had long since faded into the background. He stared forward as the road stretched out before him. Vigil's Keep lay ahead, its elegance concealed by a veil of trees. But he knew his quarry was there.

Justine would finally be avenged.

He doubled his pace, shifting the weight of his armor to make it slightly more comfortable. Damned templar plate. Was it truly necessary to wear such heavy plate when mages could easily pierce it with magic? Anti-magic could only do so much to protect.

No. It was better to be able to be dextrous. What was the use of being completely armored if you couldn't even move? Aaron needed agility to defeat this foe. Myr was cunning, careful with a blade and capable of fighting without magic. He had long since discarded his greatsword, one more memory of Justine, in favor of two wickedly serrated blades a trader told him came from the lands of the Qunari.

They were fitting for the job they must do. Cruel, jagged edges that were not meant to slice, but to torture. Once Myr was disarmed and defeated, Aaron would slowly make sure she would harm no other.

The templar armor he carried over his shoulder in a sack was but a formality. Templars were respected by the populace, viewed as heroes by the common man. Though he would not use this armor in combat, unwieldy as it was, Aaron could use it as a way to gain trust or information from the inhabitants of the Keep.

Again he shifted his weight as the Keep started coming into view through the trees. From what he had heard, the place had been nearly destroyed by darkspawn, but there it was. Myr was here. Aaron would find her and she would die as she deserved.

Slowly, he neared Vigil's Keep. His eyes were locked on the broken gates, where a few guards stood watch on the roads. As Aaron neared, one halted him. After looking the templar over quickly, he spoke.

"State your name and business." The guard was bold, but not confrontational. Still, something about him irked Aaron. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, how he kept his back straight in a vain attempt to hold dignity. But Aaron could see the uncertainty in his eyes, brought about by seeing death and surviving. He was unhinged by the darkspawn attack.

"I am Aaron, templar and exterminator for the Circle of Magi." He shrugged, adjusting the weight of the damned armor. "I am under the belief that there is a dangerous apostate residing within Vigil's Keep. I've been sent to bring the mage to justice."

"You mean...?" The guard narrowed his eyes. Before he could continue, the gates behind him opened. Aaron stepped back, retaining composure despite the surprise. Slowly the wooden doors opened, creaking in defiance as they slowly revealed a small group of people. Each possessed weapons and armor, with the exception of one. He was blonde and had a staff slung across his back, proudly declaring that he was a mage. The guard saluted as the group passed.

"You are?" Aaron locked eyes with the tanned Orlesian man who spoke. He lead the group confidently, easily taking in the templar. A strong leader perhaps? Or simply a facade?

"Ser Aaron of the Order of the Templar." Aaron bowed slightly, which the Orlesian returned. "I take it you are Warden-Commander Darius? There are not many Orlesians in this reach of Ferelden."

"Indeed. I am Darius." Aaron found himself growing swiftly annoyed. Conversation was only polite formality. He cared little for talk. He wanted to hunt. "What brings you to the Vigil?"

"An apostate, ser." Aaron glanced over the blonde mage, who seemed alarmed by the statement. Aaron almost laughed. That mage was of no consequence. Only Myr needed to die. "I have received word that she has come to Vigil's Keep with the intent of hiding from the Order. She will not escape The Maker's wrath, however."

"If I could extend aid, I would. However, my men and I are to leave for the Wending Woods." More formalities. Aaron wanted to spit. Or to kill. Why could he only see blood?

"It is alright. I've fought this mage before and I know her weaknesses." Aaron nodded before looking to the gates again. The Orlesian turned away, heading down the road. Aaron stopped and pivoted, shouting to the Darius again. "Wait! Who is that mage with you?"

Darius turned slowly, looking at him curiously. The mage looked nervous, but smiled jovially anyway. Typical behavior for a wanted man. If Aaron was to turn him in, the Chantry might grant aid for bringing Myr to justice...

"Anders is a Grey Warden, so do not think of exercising your 'right' as a templar." Darius responded coldly. Aaron smirked but did not respond. After a long moment of looking at one another, Darius turned away. He continued down the road, dwarf, archer and mage in tow.

Aaron watched them for a long while, noting with some curiosity as Anders deviated from the group, taking the road north to Amaranthine while the rest of the group continued towards the Wending Woods.

Turning back to the Vigil, Aaron pushed past the guard, entering the Keep grounds. He immediately noted the distasteful disorganization of the place. People around him moved about completing one task or another. People stood on top of buildings repairing roofs. People repairing walls. People yelling for some underling to come complete some meaningless task.

The definition of chaos showed itself in these desperate people. A darkspawn attack, the immediate threat of annihilation likely made these people work harder than they have in their entire lives.

Nothing matters as much in the face of death than life itself.

ooo

"May the Maker watched over you." The priest bowed, moving so that Aaron could walk through the doors. Before him lay the Chantry, the holiest and mightiest place in all of the Vigil. The templar felt proud to look upon the statues of Andraste. His heart rose as he looked upon the paintings, the arches, the people praying.

This was The Maker's work. It was His divine power that allowed this to be created. The Chantry was a symbol of His omniscience, and the more Aaron thought of it the more he believed. Andraste was his savior, his light in the darkness. Without Her Aaron would be lost, doomed to wander Thedas without enlightenment.

And Aaron looked upon those worshiping and he grew disgusted. They only believed when was necessary for them. They only worshiped The Maker when it was convenient. Sure, when asked they would readily accept that they believed in The Maker, that they worshiped him. But they would only think about Him, only accept Him wholeheartedly, when they needed His help.

They were simply fair-weather believers, quick to judge and quick to run for help. These people did not give themselves completely to The Maker and His Bride. Aaron looked upon them and no longer did he feel pride in his beliefs, but anger at those who flaunted The Maker's power. How could they not see that it was their pride that caused The Maker to turn His eye from Thedas? How could they not understand that He would only return when all believed in Him?

"Do you want something, ser Templar?" Aaron broke him his thoughts, interrupted as he was by a peasant, an elf. Anger flashed through him at the insolence of the creature. Didn't she know not to talk to a human unless a human talked to her first?

Aaron looked at her a long while. He saw her shift on her feet. Why was she afraid of him? Why wasn't her faith in The Maker so implacable that she was capable of standing strong even when she was breaking social rules? She was pathetic, hardly worth living. It was best that she was dead, though Aaron knew killing her would only bring the ire of those around him. They would not be able to see that she was wasting space on The Maker's divine land.

"You dare speak to me?" Aaron raised his hand. He noticed her flinch, fearful. Pathetic, just as all the elves were. What happened to the heroic creatures that aided Shartan in Andraste's fight? What happened to the legendary elves that would fight with tooth and nail, stone and glass, to kill those that pushed them down?

"I-I'm sorry ser. I'll leave at once." The peasant bowed her head, running off. The urge to end that pathetic life burned within Aaron, but he resisted. She deserved it. She deserved to die for being a coward, for being an elf with no honor. But he knew her death would not serve the greater purpose.

For only one death mattered: That of Myr's.

Aaron walked towards the podium near the front, passing by the sporadic individuals praying in the pews. Why weren't they filled? Why were people busy building simple stone walls outside when prayer for sanctity was what was truly important? Walls and weapons do not matter. Only Andraste does.

The templar neared the podium, where a chanter stood, eyes upward and hands locked. There was a pious man. He rocked to the rhythm of the Chant, tears falling from his face as he recited the words of Andraste, the song of truth. Aaron stood listening to it for a long while, appreciating the perfect evirato voice of the Chanter.

He could feel The Maker around him. Aaron knew that there was still hope for this world, that The Maker still looked after His people, just from a distance. Deep within the voice of the Chanter he could feel The Maker and His Bride reaching for him, caressing his soul. He remembered his times as an initiate, during the long hours he'd spend with Justine listening to the Chanters. He remembered the joy he felt as the Chanters spoke of Threnodies, of Canticles.

Justine's face came to his mind then. And he grew enraged. Lost was that feeling of peace through The Maker. Replaced with it was his rage to the abomination that stole her from him. He would have his revenge, even if he had to bring this world to pieces to do so.

"Templar." Aaron broke from his trance. Swiftly he returned to the reality of the Chantry. Some time seemed to have passed, as the light of the windows fell at a much more slanted angle than before. A woman armored with the plate of the Templar stood a slight distance away. A longsword and shield was strapped to her back, her arms crossed.

"Do you need something?" Aaron sized her up. An older woman, possibly of a high rank. She had a stern face, likely hiding a life of cruelty and hardship. Such was the nature of a templar's life. There was no rest for the wicked, so the pursuers never rest either.

"I am Rylock, a Templar like yourself." Aaron cocked an eyebrow, curious about the two other templars who flanked her. They were hunters, designated to bring apostates to justice. Why would they be in Vigil's Keep?

"I am Aaron of Cumberland." Aaron bowed respectfully before signaling towards one of the side rooms. "Maybe it is best that we talk where wayward ears will not disturb us?"

Rylock nodded, leading him to a small room with a three beds inside. Judging from the weapons and armor scattered about, this was the current living quarters for the templar hunters. Aaron shut the door behind him after Rylock entered the room. She ordered the other two templars to stand guard outside, to which they obeyed unquestionably. Good. Templars should be unflinching when orders come.

"I was not informed of the Divine sending another unit to Vigil's Keep." Rylock stared, unflinching. Here was a dedicated woman, one who would do anything for her faith. "And you don't even wear your armor? If I was your mentor, I'd be spitting in disgrace. Why are you here?"

"I care little for your formalities." Aaron shot back. "I am here chasing a dangerous maleficar. Adhering to a code regarding armor would only hinder me. I care not for rules, only for results."

Aaron's response took the woman by surprise, it seems. She stared at him a small while before a smile crept onto her face. Confused, Aaron was about to question her, but she responded first.

"So you're a hunter too, huh?" Rylock sighed, running an armored hand through her stringy hair. From the looks of things, this woman hadn't washed in days. Likely she was too busy plotting how to bring in her target. "Maybe we can help each other out. I didn't know they'd sent another group after Anders."

"The Grey Warden is an apostate?" Aaron pondered that for a second. It was likely, as the blonde mage had seemed rather nervous. "I care not for him. I seek another, an albino elf by the name of Myr, who is charged with murder of a degree most foul, as well as for being a maleficar."

"You know of Anders?" Suddenly Rylock seemed intrigued, almost hungry for information. This woman took her job very seriously. "Where is he? When did you see him? Where was he going?"

"Your job is none of my concern." Aaron turned to leave. This woman could offer him nothing.

"Wait! I know of Myr." There it was again. Blood filled his vision, anger clawed at him. Even the mere mention of her name brought this fury back again. Pleasurable images of her body strewn across the rocks danced through his mind, tempting him so.

"Tell me!" Aaron didn't realize how much emotion he demanded it with, but Rylock only seemed amused. Conniving.

"It won't be free." Rylock, likely realizing that she had power over Aaron now, raised her head slightly, prideful. Anything to succeed, Aaron remembered his mentor telling him.

"Anders left for Amaranthine, separate from Darius. That is all I know." Aaron said quickly. Rylock suddenly seemed disappointed, as if she was hoping for something more. She thought for a second before smiling again.

"Not good enough." And the images started slipping away, as if the likelihood of them becoming reality was suddenly diminishing. Aaron grew enraged, drawing his sword at Rylock as she tried to walk past him. The templar stared at him, cold eyes not shirking in the slightest. They stood there for a long while, staring at the other.

"I like you." Rylock smirked as she finally spoke, laying a hand on the sword and lowering it. "Myr works in the castle as a serving girl. Rumor has it that she's unusually fast in completing her tasks. I can imagine magic plays a role in that."

Aaron sheathed his sword, exiting wordlessly. Rylock had what she demanded and Myr's location had been found. As he pushed his way past the templars guarding the door, he couldn't help but notice how shiny their armor was. Polished. They were recruits, likely on their first mage hunt.

He deposited his templar armor near the entrance of the chantry, taking with him only his two swords and light armor. That was all he needed.

Aaron remembered his first hunt, long ago. He had struck the final blow after his mentor, Knight-Commander Goodson, was knocked unconscious by a maleficarum. His greatsword had torn through his chest, ripping the mage near in two. Aaron was so afraid, so relieved by the win, that he had started laughing. Laughing while he stared at the bodies around him. Laughing as the blood spray rested upon his armor.

Now it was different. Before Myr it was just mindless slaughter. But there was a hint of truth to it, a hint of happiness. With every apostate killed, the world became safer. With every mage dead, the security of Ferelden became tighter.

The mages, invariably, tried to argue. They tried to reason, but the templars do not listen. There is no listening to the mad ravings of dangerous criminals. They were evil and deserved death. No amount of convincing could change that.

Yet he argued long hours with Justine about the nature of the Templar's duty. She thought it was cruel that the mages were sentenced death even if they were born outside of the Circle's influence. She just didn't understand that it didn't matter. They were all guilty. They were all abhorrent people deserving nothing but death.

But Aaron no longer cared about the mages as a whole. When he thought of apostates, of maleficarum, of murderers, he only saw Myr. He saw that albino elf drenched in Justine's blood. He saw her walking away, bloody dagger in hand. She even took Justine's honor by stealing the Templar's sword.

Aaron stooped as he walked under the portcullis, entering the main courtyard within the Keep. Taking the stairs to his right, he hoped he could find the kitchens somewhere in this tainted place. Once he purged the Vigil of Myr's evil, Justine would finally be able to rest.

He could feel the adrenaline, the anger, everything. Soon it would all come to an end. Justine would be avenged. As he strode down the long hallways, the winding turns, he started to feel his pulse quicken, a smile started to form on his face. Finally! The end was near!

Many elves turned as he kicked down the door to the kitchens. The workers turned abruptly, one woman in particular looked enraged, but none reacted faster than Aaron. The templar grabbed the nearest scullery maid – a small elf, likely not even of childbearing age – and shook her.

"Where is Myr!" Aaron nearly shouted, a wide smile on his face. The girl barely responded, her voice inaudible. Aaron shook her again, only to be assaulted by the angry woman.

"Let her down, fool!" Aaron just looked at her, unamused. There was an elf, unarmed and unarmored. Vulnerable. Yet she was yelling at a stranger with weapons? How foolish. She had to be taught a lesson.

Dropping the scullery maid, Aaron turned sharply, drawing his blade and stabbing forward. The quick move caught the angered elf by surprise, blade sinking into her stomach. A scream tore from the scullery maid's lips as the dying elf struggled weakly to speak. Aaron withdrew his blade, sheathing it. Unable to support herself, the elf collapsed, blood widening in a scarlet pool.

Already the other elves were running from the room, but Aaron was quicker. He threw a nearby pan at a serving elf, which impacted soundly into his skull. The elf dropped, stunned, allowing Aaron to collect him.

"Where is Myr!" Aaron shouted again, his smile widening even more. The elf stumbled over his words for a second, but finally formed a coherent sentence.

"You... you killed Maria!" Aaron rolled his eyes. Why do people only focus on the obvious? He was just trying to ask a damned question!

"Maria!" Aaron ignored the new voice, staring angrily at the boy he had captured. Something was off about this new voice, however... "Guards! Come quickly! There's a murderer!"

Aaron let go of the elf, who scrambled to his feet as he ran. Standing slowly, Aaron could hardly believe his luck. He drew both swords, relishing the moment before turning.

There she was, standing in the doorway, ears drooped in obvious fear. Funny how elves showed emotion so easily. They were like animals, untrained, stupid, dangerous and oh-so fun to squash. She backed away a step, but otherwise seemed ready for a fight. Good. Aaron didn't want a chase just yet. Chases were just before the kill, but now he wanted some fun.

"Finally... I've found you." Aaron locked gazes with her, relishing how her eyes widened with recognition. Phantoms from the past were never pleasant, especially when they were doused in blood. And when they desired yours.

Myr said nothing, instead backing away. She had no weapon, no way of defending herself except with magic. If Aaron was right, she would avoid that by any means necessary so as to preserve her illusion of not being a mage.

"Aside, elf!" Aaron found his smile dissipate as a man with a greatsword stepped past Myr, blocking the way. Judging from the uniform, this was the Captain of the Guard. The man glanced once at the corpse before turning his full attention at Aaron.

"Do not bare your blade at me, man." Aaron pointed a sword at Myr. "That elf is an apostate, a maleficar. This woman's death was not murder, for she was an accomplice of the mage."

"You expect me to believe that?" Aaron shrugged, charging. His first swipe knocked the greatsword away, the second grazing his chainplate armor. The man jumped back, and Aaron noted with some annoyance how Myr ran off. This guard was getting in his way!

"Aside!" Aaron shouted, his smile fading as the quarry was getting away. He was so close! How could this be! Justine's death had to be avenged, so one man's death must not impede that goal!

"You wish!" The guard charged again, but Aaron sidestepped the blade, lashing one sword upwards, slicing up the guard's neck. The second blade found a seam in his leg armor, cutting deep. The man gasped, falling. Aaron considered finishing him off, but decided against it, seeing as Myr had already disappeared at the end of the hallway.

Aaron took of running, grateful that he had the foresight to discard that blasted templar armor. Such a heavy weight would only hold him down. He skirted around the corner, catching a small wisp of white hair at the end of this hallway. Without stopping, Aaron felt the thrill come back. It wasn't all lost after all!

As he turned the second corner, though, he realized that it would be slightly more difficult than he had anticipated. Myr stood near the entrance to an armory, dagger in her left hand and Justine's longsword in her right.

"How dare you defile her memory!" Aaron shouted, enraged at how the elf had grabbed the sword. "Have you no shame, maleficar?"

"Something must be wrong with you." Myr shook her head, approaching slowly, cautiously. Aaron remembered her swordsmanship. Even with only a dagger, she had held off two templars. Now was not a time for anger, but for caution. "But, you know what? I've always hated your kind, so I took great pleasure in killing that templar, just as I did in watching you squirm."

Fuck caution.

Aaron charged, screaming. His swords moved before he thought of where to swing them, instinct guided his movements. His right sword slashed downwards, only to be parried by Justine's longsword. How disgusting that Justine's sword was now to be used against him. By extension, Justine's own sword had been turned against herself.

Aaron backed away, struggling to find some way he could fight this damnable elf despite the cramped quarters. Every muscle within him wanted to charge, wanted to slice this elf to pieces. He knew he needed to resist, to stay focused, but he felt his care slipping away.

Aaron smiled, charging and shouting incomprehensibly. He would have this elf's head.

His first overhead chop was parried, but knocked the elf off balance, the weight of it sending painful shuddering coursing through his right arm. He didn't feel it. He stabbed forward with his left sword, smiling as he saw the panic in her eyes as she barely dodged backwards.

But then she attacked him, her style more fluid, controlled. It was almost as if she was dancing, her blades striking lightly on his, driving him back with elegant movements. Aaron growled as a blade traced along his cheek, tearing skin from bone as it left a long line of blood below and above his eye.

He rushed with her strokes, punching her shoulder. The weight of the blow sent her off balance again, sending her tumbling backwards. Seeing an opportunity, Aaron stabbed at her. Pure ecstacy coursed through his veins as he felt sword meet flesh as his blade bit into her arm. She gasped, struggling to escape, but was trapped.

Aaron raised his blade, laughing now. She was trapped with his blade through her arm. Judgment was upon her finally!

His blade descended slowly. He could see her pained expression. Her fear. He could taste it. Oh how he had awaited this moment, this revenge! The Maker will have his dues and Justine shall finally be avenged. Aaron felt his smile grow wider, he felt the air part to let his blade pass. Finally. Finally! Oh sweet retribution! Sweet Andraste, how Her infinite kindness has allowed this moment to be bestowed upon him!

Wait? But what was this pain filling his body? What was this red light? Why was his arm stopping? Why was his grip on the blade slipping? Why was Myr not dead?

Aaron turned slowly as he fell to the ground, catching a glimpse of a pitch black robe, of a golden staff.

Why would Andraste deny him this?

ooo

He saw Her in his dreams. He saw Her glow lovingly, accepting him, caressing him. Aaron allowed her in, despite the darkness. And even in this darkness he could feel Her lovingly holding him.

Aaron sat up in the dungeon, smiling as he stared at Myr, who lay in the cell across from his. Andraste told him no. Andraste said to wait. Andraste knows she needs to live just a bit longer.

Aaron would not deny his savior. He obeyed, and Andraste was content.

For now they would rest. Andraste willed it to be so.


	8. Revenge

_Meh. Sorry this chapter took so long. I appreciate all the reviews, people, and I wish I could pour more chapters out, but school and real life demands I act otherwise. I'm thinking one chapter a week will be my baseline. ;P Sorry. Anyway, enjoy chapter 7! Please, as always, REVIEW!_

**Chapter 7: Revenge**

"_Vhen'alas_ swallow you, and may your death bring me peace." Velanna lowered her staff as the roots withdrew from the man's body. The form slumped to the ground, emptied of blood. Velanna faced the others, who backed away slowly, clutching their weapons.

"What in the Maker are you?" One frantically shouted, his voice rising in fear. Velanna only smiled. The_ shemlen_ always acted this way, fearful and without honor. One gritted his teeth, looking between the gray and sagging form of the dead man and Velanna.

They would either fight or flee, but neither was preferable. Velanna twirled her wooden staff as she felt the magic of the Wending Woods enter her. She fed from the power of life around her, focusing her energy, and anger, at one of the remaining three enemies.

The roots of the forest rose in her command, snaking around his ankle. He jumped back, startled, but the wood held tight. He overbalanced, screaming as he fell. Velanna smiled as his ankle snapped, the sickening sound singing sweet music in her ears.

He clawed at the ground as he was dragged into the soil, screaming in pain and fear. The other two stared, mindlessly gawking. Pathetic. Finally, one turned his attention on Velanna and, shouting, raised his sword to attack her. The second charged after him, both intending to end Velanna's life.

Sylvan arms struck the leftmost human square in the chest, flinging him backwards a dozen feet as the tree rose to Velanna's command. The other human noticed, but didn't hesitate. Velanna raised her staff, easily parrying the awkward overhead chop of his longsword. She counterbalanced as the blade fell, allowing the man's momentum to topple him forwards. Her staff slammed into his back as Velanna stepped aside.

He nearly lost his footing, but regained his hold on the ground, pivoting towards Velanna. Behind her, she could feel the other man be torn to pieces by the charred Sylvan. The shrieks and cries for help forced the remaining man's eyes to go wide and, after glancing once more at Velanna, he ran.

Good. A chase.

Velanna darted to the side, knowing the path the man would take doubled back, down the cliff. She hid behind a bush, just out of view, waiting for the man to reappear. After a few seconds, she saw him. He still ran, frantic, but somewhat more at ease as nothing could be seen behind him.

His relief would soon die out.

Velanna jumped, landing mere feet in front of the human, her staff transferring her momentum into his skull. He slammed into the ground as Velanna rolled to the side, easily righting herself. Despite the long fall, she felt no pain.

The man shifted, groaning. Velanna kicked the sword away, letting it slip over the edge of the pathway and into the forest below. She bent over, gripping the mans hair and elevating his head just enough so she could stare into his eyes. There it was. Fear. These shems were all cowards. In a group they were powerful, a force to be feared, but alone they were nothing.

"Where is Seranni?" Velanna shouted at him, spittle flying in the man's face. He mumbled incoherently, to which Velanna shouted again. "Tell me!"

"What...?" The man looked at her quizzically. His head injury made him a bumbling fool, then. Pity. All this effort but with no information gained.

Velanna murmured a quick spell, letting tree roots snake from the ground around the man. She backed away as they enveloped his body in a cocoon, not even bending as he started to thrash. Slowly they crushed him against the ground, until the screaming finally stopped.

But there was no satisfaction. Like every kill, it was a hollow victory. Yes, she survived another day to hunt the humans that took her sister away, but the hole in her heart grew wider. She saw the smiling face of Seranni within her mind, and rage overtook her again. Those damned shems took her! As she stood here thinking, they were probably violating her, torturing her. She could not let this continue! She had to find Seranni and save her from these wretched creatures.

Velanna turned suddenly, surprised as she felt contact with one of her Sylvans near the entrace to the forest sever suddenly. A few minutes earlier she had felt alarm from the creature, but Velanna had figured that it could take care of whatever nuisances arose.

She took off running as another Sylvan shrieked within her mind. It was being attacked, its comrade had been slain. These creatures were not easily communicated with, but fear and desperation were easy to pick up on. Sylvans were strong, too strong for even a party of humans to take down. Why were these two being defeated?

Gradually her form began to shift as Velanna called to mind the form of a bird, the powerful and relentless eagle. She rose into the air as her mind slipped into the Fade, the small bird brain unable to support her complex consciousness.

She rose swiftly, sharp eyes surveying the Wending Woods spread out before her. For a moment she thought of Ilshae, her former Keeper. She was the one who taught her to study and learn the form of the animals, but Velanna pushed the thought away, focusing at the investigative task at hand.

She flew quickly towards movement below her, diving out of the sky. She silently alighted on a perch just above where two sylvans lay dead. Shocked, Velanna looked around, quickly spying the perpetrators.

A man with shockingly dark skin withdrew a sword from the bark of one of the sylvans. Rage filled Velanna, but she knew that fighting a foe without gauging their strength would be folly indeed. An extremely short one heaved mightily, withdrawing his axe and nearly hitting a pale, wolf-sized creature. It hissed, slinking away towards the tanned one.

The creature mystified Velanna. What manner of beast was it? It seemed tame, but Velanna did not sense any subservience from it. It chose to follow the tanned man, but Velanna could not understand why. She felt it was wild at heart, yet it cast that freedom away for a human? It hissed again at the redheaded short one, who snarled back, shaking his fist.

As she was so surprised by this strange beast, Velanna didn't notice the third person until he was right under her. Velanna nearly took to flight, but stopped herself, knowing that whoever these people were, they could not see her.

"Nathaniel, hurry up!" The tanned one called, but the black haired man shushed him.

"There's an eagle up there. I want to get a good look at it, but I don't want to scare it." Nathaniel called back. Velanna looked around, not sensing any other birds of prey. Coldness gripped her heart as she realized that this... Nathaniel had spotted her.

"We're not here to bird watch, boy." The redhead called, shouldering the axe. Velanna batted her wings, ready to take off at a moments notice. She saw Nathaniel silently jump to a lower branch on a tree next to hers, easily swinging himself up. He was unusually agile for a shem, but Velanna dismissed the notion. Everything about this party seemed odd already.

"It's beautiful..." Velanna batted her wings again, noticing and satisfied by the man's reaction. Nathaniel seemed to understand Velanna was watching him, cautious. "I never thought eagles flew this far south. Isn't it a bit cold here for you?"

Velanna batted her wings again, her anxiety growing. The shem didn't show any outward signs of aggression, but he did not shirk away either. Her hate was making way for curiosity. Yeah, she'd wind up killing these people eventually, but they were definitely not the garden-variety scavengers. Best to watch for now.

"Nathaniel! Hurry it up, we need to find those missing merchants!" Alarm shot through Velanna, knowing that all the disappearances in the Wending Wood would be her doing. Even if she was to ignore these shems, they would eventually find her anyway. That was fine. Let them come. She was ready.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, dropping from the tree. Velanna could feel the same emotions within the man as she could the strange gray one. A feral creature at heart, choosing to submit and follow for reasons unknown.

They were interesting, but they would die. It would take many, many deaths to make up for what the shems had done.

ooo

Velanna tracked them for hours, even as they fought sylvan and scavengers alike. She shifted her form as to escape notice, keeping away from the gray one. Its sense of smell couldn't be too great if it had not yet noticed Velanna was tailing them, but its hearing was superb. Even the tiniest misstep in an animal form and Velanna would be forced to stop herself.

Her eyes still drifted to the black haired one, however. She could feel his anger, his frustration. He was detached from the other two, more akin to the gray one. In a way he resembled the wild wolf, proud yet vicious, capable yet cautious.

Why a shem would captivate her interest so escaped her, but Velanna told herself it was because she needed to gauge their strength. She knew it to be otherwise, but she would not, could not admit it. One thought remained true in her mind above all, though. These two shems and the unnaturally short one would die eventually. But perhaps the gray one could be released?

They had an odd encounter with a mage, a blonde and eccentric lady who had arrived in the forest long before Velanna and her clanmates had. She seemed to care for the trees and plants, so Velanna had left her mostly alone. Upon hearing that she was needed in some far off land, a place called Cumberland, she packed up and left. Velanna felt nothing but a slight satisfaction at her leaving, but it was replaced by her growing curiosity.

She had ordered the sylvans to stay away for now, letting Nathaniel and the others carve their own way through the forest, killing scavenger and bandit alike. Finally, Velanna grew tired of observation. They were nearing her camp and she could afford no more delays. She transformed into an eagle again, flying across the long bridge that ran the width of the river cutting through the center of the forest. Alighting upon the cliff overlooking the bridge, Velanna gazed at the group for a few moments before changing back to her elven form.

"Halt!" Velanna called out, gripping the attention of the group. Nathaniel instantly readied a bow, though the tanned skin one extended his hand, ordering him to lower it. "Who are you? Why have you trespassed into my forest? Do you seek death, or do you brashly wish to fight against it?"

"I am Darius Caron, of the Grey Wardens." Velanna felt her mind whirl. These were Grey Wardens? Wardens were supposed to be accepting and honorable. Then... they were entirely separate from those who took Seranni? But they were shems!

"Why have you come here? Why do you kill your brethren?" Velanna shouted, pointing her wooden staff at them threateningly. "What relation do you have with those who took my sister?"

"Took your sister?" Darius pondered for a moment before turning back to her, a shock of realization coming to him.

"Some of the scavengers mentioned someone like her." Nathaniel said, turning to the Warden leader. "Remember what they said? A blonde, vengeful elf that was searching for her sister, killing those in her path."

"Were the scavengers referring to you?" Velanna was taken aback by Darius' words. These shems didn't seem scared of her in the slightest! If anything, they were... curious! Anger rose within her. How dare they mock her so!

"Know this, shem!" Velanna shouted, feeling her rage shake her body. "Go back to your masters and tell them I will never submit. I want Seranni! I will never give up, I will never stop until all of you shems, innocent or not, are mere corpses!"

Suddenly afraid of the Wardens, Velanna stepped back, letting the roots of the earth surround her. Her eyes locked with Nathaniel's, and for a moment Velanna grew uncertain. The wild beast showed sentience, intelligence. With that final look at Nathaniel, she was pulled underground. Velanna was propelled along under the earth, her destination the Dalish camp where her brothers and sisters died.

She rose from the earth sweating and swearing at herself. Why did she flee? She should have attacked them there! They were nearly defenseless on that bridge! One simple attack and she could have tossed them into the raging waters to be picked off, one by one.

They were strangely unafraid. Where others backed away and ran in fear, they stood and questioned. These were Grey Wardens. The tales told of their powers might not have been exaggerated, then.

Velanna was in for one hell of a fight.

ooo

She crouched in the tree in human form, staring down at them from atop the cliff. The camp of her brethren lay behind her, still dotted with the blood of her friends. She was at the center of the forest, where ancient relics of a bygone civilizations crumbled silently. Vines and plants grew amongst the carved stone, showing the sheer power nature held over even great monuments. Her people chose this spot for that very reason.

They were heading in the wrong direction, Velanna smirked, jumping from her post. She'd have to follow them on foot to keep them in sight, so far were they already. As she landed, though, she realized something was wrong. The birds that sung were silent, a stench hung in the air.

Velanna felt sickness coming from all around her, through she knew not from what. Could the shems have sprung some trap? No. This was... familiar.

Darkspawn.

The dalish elf whirled, crouching low as an arrow whizzed by overhead. Two genlocks were approaching from her front, but the sounds of those vibrations meant an Ogre... Velanna cursed, realizing her stupidity. She had spent so much time focusing on the Wardens that she neglected to look out for darkspawn.

Velanna darted to the left, scanning her surroundings. The Ogre was charged up the hill, roaring. A hurlock Alpha and an emissary were just ahead, with two regular hurlocks in front of them. She was trapped at the camp with numerous darkspawn charging for her. But why now? Where had they come from?

Thinking quickly, Velanna called to her Sylvan allies. Hopefully some would be able to arrive in time to help, but Velanna knew that to depend on them would be dangerous, perhaps even futile.

The Genlocks were fastest, the two of them reaching her roughly at the same time. One carried a longsword, while the other used two vicious daggers. Velanna cursed as she blocked a strike from the longsword, searching her mind for a spell to use.

Velanna shouted as roots erupted from the ground, skewering the longsword-wielding Genlock. If the other was perturbed by this, it did not show. It merely growled, swiping at her again. Velanna jumped backwards as the roots withdrew into the earth.

She swore as a large rock flew overhead, crashing into the central tent of the camp. Velanna was in range for the Ogre, then. Not a good sign. Velanna dived to the side as a second rock soared overhead. As she rolled, she slammed her staff in the ground, sending magic into the earth. The roots came alive, wrapping around the legs of the remaining genlock. It screamed and thrashed as the roots climbed higher, wrapping it in a crushing cocoon.

But there were still four hurlocks and an ogre left to deal with. Why was such a large band of darkspawn attacking her now?

Velanna crouched as a rock soared overhead and off the cliff. As she heard it crash into the foliage below, she took off running to the nearest hurlock. The vicious creature swung its greatsword, which Velanna dived under, driving her staff into its chest. Green magical sparks erupted from the impact site, shaking the foul creature as the power of the forest rushed into it. It shuddered violently before dropping, a large hole in its chest.

As she clambered to get more secure footing, however, Velanna felt another rock impact nearby, catching her slightly on the arm. The sheer force of the impact spun her around, landing her face-first on the ground.

_Shit!_ Velanna fought through the dizziness and pain, running forward even though she could hardly see through the double vision. She turned and nearly fell over, righting herself just in time to weakly parry a blow from an incoming Hurlock. The emissary stood by the Ogre, not even bothering to attack, its vicious smile showing its superiority.

Velanna narrowly dodged a swipe of the Hurlock's longsword as she stumbled backwards, trying to right herself.

_This might be the end..._ Velanna thought desperately, hoping her Sylvan allies would arrive soon. She parried another strike, but the blade slid to the right, biting into her hand. Velanna let out a gasp as she stumbled backwards again, gripping at the wound.

_Seranni..._ Velanna swung her staff, catching the Hurlock in the face. Before she could cast a spell to finish it off, the Alpha came into range. Its greatsword chopped downwards at Velanna, forcing her to jump back.

Behind the hurlocks she could see the ogre preparing another rock. She was dead. This was it. Indirectly, those Grey Wardens had caused her death. The shems had finally gotten her. One more member of her peoples' race would succumb to the darkness of death. One more lost Dalish life.

Velanna tried to summon the roots to aid her, but to no avail. They weakly reached up and gripped the legs of her assailants, but they broke through easily. She couldn't put enough strength into the spell to make it effective.

The pommel of the Hurlock's skull smashed into her staff, slipping off the end and impacting her forehead, just above her left eye. Velanna stumbled back, even more dazed. Half-dazed and nearly bent double, Velanna gazed at the Alpha. Even with all her hate, all her anger, she could not evade this fate. This was the end.

Velanna stared up as the greatsword descended, but then it stopped. The alpha shuddered, stepping forward to catch itself from falling. The other hurlock turned, only to have an arrow sprout from its eye. It fell backwards, its wicked grin still evident as it crumpled to the ground.

The Alpha lurched again, though now Velanna could see why. As she righted herself she watched the third arrow embed itself in the Alpha's skull. The thing gazed emptily at her, a blank, unfeeling expression on its face. A fourth arrow finally felled it, the greatsword dropping harmlessly into the grass. The green blades withered and died at the touch of its blood, and Velanna felt her heart grow weary. These dark creatures caused so much destruction to her beloved forest. Even killing them caused only pain and death.

But enough of sentiment. Velanna looked towards the Ogre and emissary, which had become engaged with someone else. Who? Velanna's first though was other Dalish, but with her vision still cloudy, she couldn't tell well enough. Besides... Ilshae would never help her after what she had done...

Velanna leaned against a tree as she watched the two remaining darkspawn get torn to pieces. Two swords erupted from the center of the Ogre's neck as Velanna watched. The darkspawn shrieked, dropping its stone atop its own foot, causing it to scream more. The blades teared viciously, eventually moving outwards, cutting entirely through. Head severed from body, the ogre tumbled to the ground, leaving the emissary alone against four figures, two tall, one short and one animal shaped.

"Wardens..."The emissary rasped, its voice chilling Velanna. This was a darkspawn, yet it was speaking? "Be you fools to challenge the might of The Architect directly?"

"No more a fool than you, monster." Velanna heard one of the figures speak. Slowly, she was starting to recognize them, the fogginess finally starting to recede. "Wherever your kind is coming from, I will find it."

"The Architect... he will not let it be so." The emissary rasped, twirling its twisted staff as Velanna felt a spell launch from it. She could feel the dark stench of cursed blood powering it. The figures darted to the side as the large bolt of lightning arced towards them. Before the emissary could react, one of the figures rushed for it, two swords reflecting the light of the dying sun proudly.

The emissary shrieked as one sword slid into its stomach, a second just above its collar bone. It glared at the figure with a determined look, bringing its hand to the figure's face. The smell of burning flesh met her nose as the figure stumbled back, letting go of his weapons. The emissary smiled, collapsing to its knees while the figure shouted in pain, clutching at the wound.

"You have been marked, Warden." The emissary spat, tainted blood spilling from its mouth. "My brethren will know always of where you lay your blade. You will never be safe. You will never... know... peace..."

The emissary fell backwards, dead. The figure cursed, angrily drawing his weapons from the fallen corpse. He didn't sheathe the blades, turning instead to Velanna.

And finally she recognized them. Darius, Nathaniel, the dwarf and the gray one. Velanna pinned herself against the tree as alarm wracked her body. Darius walked closer, not even bothering to wipe the tainted blood from his weapons. Velanna held her staff in front of her, pointing it directly at Darius' heart. She noticed a hand-shaped burn mark covering the left side of his face, where the emissary had attacked him. Bubbling, burnt flesh met her eyes, causing even more fear to course through her veins.

"Why won't your kind leave me alone!" Velanna shouted, spurned by her various wounds. She knew she had no energy to fight. Hopefully the Sylvans would arrive soon...

Darius said nothing, simply approaching, blades held at ready. Velanna pressed her back against the tree, mustering her strength for a spell. The black haired one ran forward, but Velanna knew she could do little against more than one foe. The short one simply stood a distance away, examining the ogre corpse. The gray one stared at Velanna intensely, unemotionally.

"Wait, Darius. You heard what the soldier said!" Nathaniel ran in front of Darius, his arms held wide. Velanna found herself taken aback. Why was this human defending her? All humans wanted her dead... didn't they? "This was all a misunderstanding!"

"She is still the source of the killings, Nathaniel, misunderstanding or not." Darius pushed him aside, dropping into a stance. Velanna tensed as Darius neared.

"But the darkspawn took her sister!" Velanna turned to Nathaniel in shock just as Darius entered attacking range. Surprise forced her guard down and Velanna only recovered in time to lamely force her staff in front of her.

The Warden's blade bit straight through, shattering the staff and knocking Velanna back. She stumbled to the ground, mere feet from the edge of the cliff. She scrambled backwards as Darius neared, sword at ready, pointed at her throat.

"What do you mean!" Velanna shouted, glancing back and forth between Darius and Nathaniel. "The merchants took her! They attacked my camp while I was away! Their weapons are proof of this!"

"They didn't." Darius stopped, lowering his blades as he spoke. Velanna found herself breathing hard, her blood rushing. How could a human cause her to be so afraid? "We met a soldier, one who neared death. Before I granted him sweet oblivion, he told me of the darkspawn slaughtering his troops. He watched them take their weapons in order to trick you, though he could do nothing but lie in agony as he struggled futilely against death."

"But... you humans..." Velanna found herself speechless. This entire time, all these deaths, all these threats... Yet... the humans were innocent? How was that possible? The humans were the source of all her peoples' problems!

"There's no reason for us to fight." Nathaniel said, Seranni's amulet dangling from his hands. Velanna stood slowly, glaring at Darius. "If we work together, we might even be able to slay the perpetrators in this area."

"That's why we're here, it seems." Darius sighed, sheathing his blades. He extended his hand, which Velanna stared at, uncertain. "I am Darius Caron, of Orlais. This is Nathaniel Howe. The drunken one is Oghren-" Velanna noticed the red headed dwarf kicked a tree, shouting incomprehensibly. "-and the deepstalker is my friend, Tez."

"Friend?" Velanna mouthed. A shem considered an animal a friend? That was rich. But... these humans seemed like they could be useful. And they were Grey Wardens, too. "If Seranni was taken by the darkspawn, what will happen to her?"

"She will be turned into a broodmother or she will die." Darius said simply. The words hit her hard. Seranni? A horrible, twisted monstrosity? She couldn't let that happen. But Grey Wardens were known for their strength and skill, as well as their relentless pursuit of the darkspawn.. If anyone was capable of helping her sister, it would be them.

"Not if we rescue her. We can use this elf's help." Nathaniel said quickly. Darius looked at him curiously, as did Velanna. "You said that I had no rights, as I was a criminal. Well, what if as punishment for her, you do the same as you did with me. Make her a Grey Warden and she can help find her sister."

"If I was a Grey Warden, killing darkspawn would be easier, yes?" Velanna thought about it. As much as she despised shems, this might actually be a good idea. "If Seranni has truly been captured by darkspawn, then the power of a Grey Warden would help me immensely."

"This is no mere organization. Simply joining us could kill you." Darius said seriously. His eyes chilled Velanna, sending shivers up her spine. "I would welcome you to our Order if you wish to join. You are capable as a fighter and strong in will. However, this is a death sentence, not a game. You will forever be bound to the darkspawn, as they are to us. You will spend the rest of your life fighting them and the final blade thrust through your heart will be theirs. While I need as many Wardens as possible, there is no turning back if you say yes."

"I..." Velanna found herself hesitating. Should she trust these shems? If they wanted to manipulate her, he'd do a better job sugarcoating the words. No. This was honest, brutally so. But if it could save Seranni... "I will join. My name is Velanna, of the Dalish."

Darius nodded grimly. Velanna shifted nervously. Nathaniel looked a mixture between relief and surprise. Tez and Oghren simply examined the dead darkspawn absentmindedly.

"Very well." Darius looked briefly to the path leading down from the elevated plateau the Dalish camp sat atop of. "Are you aware of where these darkspawn emerged from? I need to make sure their taint is cleared from this forest. If anything they would be in tunnels, dark places, cold places."

"I... think I know a place." Velanna said slowly.

ooo

The five slowly emerged into the cold, underground mining shaft. Wooden platforms, dilapidated and barely capable of supporting weight, lined the walls, leading slowly down into the impenetrable darkness. Velanna drew her robes closer around her, shivering. The slight breeze only seemed to make the temperature worse, though Velanna had to wonder how wind was coming from underground.

"Hurry." Darius said simply, leading them down the steps. Wordlessly, the small band descended into the dark, their path illuminated only by Velanna's broken staff. The spell flickered heavily, as the magic was unable to travel through the shattered wood evenly. Cursing, Velanna poured more of her power into it.

Velanna found herself doubting her decisions. Not only did she just agree to join a dangerous order, she was now 20 feet underground in an old mine shaft possibly surrounded by dangerous, tainted creatures and accompanied by people she could barely trust.

"Hold." Darius stood them suddenly. They were all standing on some sort of circular glyph. Velanna stared at it curiously, the elegant, snaking designs shone of something more recent than the mine itself. What could it be?

Velanna turned suddenly, her senses tingling of an intruder. All around her she could hear crumbling of footsteps, low breathing, hissing. Her other party members heard it too, quickly bunching together to gauge their entire surroundings.

"Darkspawn." Darius breathed, drawing his swords. Despite this, the shadowy creatures made no move towards them. Why not?

Velanna tried to shout, to launch a spell at a nearby creature, but stopped in shock. Her feet were rooted to the ground. What was this paralyzing force?  
"I can't move my legs!" Velanna said desperately, only to notice the others were realizing they were in the same position.

And only then did she understand the true purpose of the glyph as it began to shine beneath her. A crushing force weighed down upon her, pinning her to the ground. As her head slammed into the stone floor, Velanna could see upwards. Darius stood, propped on his two swords, staring up at one of the figures, larger than the rest.

"The Withered..." Darius said, spitting the words.

"It is good to be seeing you again, Grey Warden." The Withered smiled, its teeth startlingly white, seeming as if to shine in the darkness. "The Withered had worried we would never be reacquainted."

"The Vigil... will be avenged." Darius spat, but Velanna found her consciousness receding.

"The Vigil is but a mere piece in The Architect's plan, Warden." The Withered smiled, as Velanna's vision grew black. "There be much more to this than you be realizing."


	9. Turning Traitor

_Here's Chapter 8. I don't know why, but I got really into writing this one. Yes, I know that this chapter doesn't continue from what happened in the last chapter, but I wanted to get the reason why Anders didn't go with Darius to the Wending Woods out already. I have this story all planned out, so none of this is random or made up as I go along. Trust me on that. ;P_

**Chapter 8: Turning Traitor**

"Andraste's knickerweasels, this place is a mess!" Anders cried out, exasperated. He had heard stories of Amaranthine being the "jewel of the north", but that certainly didn't seem true now.

All around him people lay in tents, in shabby houses or in lean-to's that seemed as if about to fall over at any moment. In front of him a boy cut across the street, a purse dangling from his hands. A man ran after him, shouting, but was too slow. His money was lost.

That seemed to be the way of the world. Take what you can to survive, even if it means bringing harm to others. There may be those that deny such principles exist, that the key to life is helping others, but Anders knew that couldn't be true.

The Templars taught him that and taught him good. Anders sighed, remembering that he no longer had to run in fear of them. For the first time in years he actually had a home and warm food. Even if it meant that he had to die an early death or fight a ton of darkspawn, Anders would eagerly allow that if only to have a steady bed at night.

"Well, maybe not _too_ steady." Anders chuckled, thinking of the pretty elven cooks and servants around the castle. If he could woo a few of them, it would certainly make fighting darkspawn a slight bit less stressful.

Elves... It was no wonder most humans found them attractive, Anders thought as a young elven woman walked in front of him. Even as dirty as she was, he could tell there was some hidden vibrance, a spark of life that humans just couldn't understand. They were joyous and happy, proud and, by the Maker, they were pretty.

Anders pressed through the tents and shanty houses, heading to the heavy gates ahead. They were closed, of course. The guards wouldn't want to risk some mad rush with all the peasants about, desperate to get in. The mage wondered for a moment if they would even let a Grey Warden in, but Anders dismissed the thought. He drank darkspawn blood, for Andraste's sake! He deserved to get into Amaranthine to do his job.

Of course, it was also partially Darius' fault that all these people were forced to be outside of Amaranthine. Much to Bann Esmerelle's dismay, Darius had sent most of the troops to the countryside to protect the farms and food. That left Amranthine undermanned by the guards, no doubt allowing any number of seedy inhabitants to be even more illegally inclined.

No point blaming the man, though. Darius had saved Anders' ass more than few times in the past week or so. Vigil's Keep, the templars, ghouls, exploding ferrets, etc. The mage was grateful he had met the Warden-Commander, even if it meant choking on blood.

Still, the state of these people was hardly inspirational. Anders watched two peasants start to beat on each other over a card game, only for a third, then a fourth jumped in. The guards looked at it, but didn't bother leaving their posts to quell the fight. Anders grinned when he saw a kid, presumably the son of the one of men, kick one of them in the balls from behind.

"Such a pleasant place." Anders said to himself, making a beeline to the gates. Anders suddenly started becoming uneasy about wearing his robes and staff so brazenly and open. Andrastians had a tendency to blame darkspawn related qualms on mages, despite how the ones responsible died hundreds of years before.

Well, that's not really true. Andrastians also liked to blame everything on everyone else anyway. People would get burned at the stake simply for a person getting a stomachache at the same time that man happened to walk by. And judging by the food these people were eating...

Adrian hurried his pace to the gate, hoping that none of the dirty peasants would try anything. Well, maybe that was a bit harsh. After all, if they picked his pocket, they would be able to buy food for a week, and that would technically be helping them, right?

"Halt!" Anders sighed as a guard shouted at him. Wonderful. Hopefully this wouldn't cause any trouble. Anders stood by the closed portcullis, tapping his foot in impatience as a fat guard ran towards him. The slovenly thing grew red in the face as he came near, huffing and wheezing. The guard stopped right in front of Anders, bending over to try and catch his breath. Odd, Anders thought, he didn't think fat people could bend over like that.

"Something you need?" Anders smiled slightly to hide his annoyance at the fat guard. Why did the man stop him?

"You... can't... go... through..." The fat guard wheezed out. Anders rolled his eyes.

"Well, I've never tried teleporting through a portcullis before, but I didn't think I needed permission to do so." Anders said sarcastically. It teleporting was even possible with magic, which it wasn't.

"Teleporting? Are you... a m-m-mage?" The fat guard stood, eyes wide. Anders sighed, slapping his hand to his face. Just his luck that the guard who decided to stop him was an imbecile.

"Did the robes and the staff give it away? I knew I should have left those at home." Anders brushed past the guard. Hopefully he could find someone that could actually let him through the gate, rather than waste his time.

"W-Wait!" The guard rushed after him, grabbing his robe. Anders turned sharply, staring at the guard. The fat man let go immediately, lowering his gaze.

"I need to get into Amaranthine." Anders said slowly, staring at the man. Maybe if he intimidated the fat man, this would go by faster. Not that Anders liked intimidation, considering how often the templars employed it on mages...

"You can't!" Anders sighed. Like this guard could stop him anyway.

"What if I say please?"

"I... I still can't let you. I mean... there are so many refugees..." Such a man shouldn't be a guard. He didn't have the commanding presence required or the ability to inspire fear.

"And if I said I was a Grey Warden and that my business is of the utmost importance?" Anders smiled as the fat man's face fell in shock.

"I-I-I-I-I'm sorry ser. I'll get right on talking t-to someone to let you in." The fat guard saluted him before running off, his too-tight armor clinking in protest. Anders sighed as he walked back to the portcullis, intent on finding a more assured way into the city.

"Warden!" Anders turned to see an imposing man in shimmering golden heavy armor walk towards him, head held high. Finally! A man of importance. "I am Constable Aiden, the commander of the guard in Amaranthine. Private Gerald told me you had business here?"

"Yeah, about that..." Anders pointed at the portcullis with his thumb, doing his best to seem impatient. "Can't do much righteous Grey Wardening if I can't even get into the city, can I?"

"I'll be sure to punish Private Gerald immediately for his insubordination." Aiden bowed, surprising Anders. These people viewed him as some sort of superior human, Anders thought. That was actually rather disturbing, considering being a Grey Warden didn't make him any less mortal.

"No, no. It's fine." Anders smiled. Aiden nodded, bowed again and mumbled a quick "follow me". Anders meandered after him, still gazing around the desperate area. Those who overheard that he was a Grey Warden looked up at him hopefully, their dirty and scarred faces making way to smiles and murmuring. Anders couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. This was the first time people had been glad to be around him, mage or not.

Unfortunately, his uplifted spirits weren't to last long. A heartbroken scream rang through the air, making Anders turn about to find the source. The shriek continued, marred only by sobs. Soon enough Anders found out where it came from, though he soon wished he hadn't.

A young woman, likely only in her early twenties, crouched over the body of a man. The man's neck was swollen and blue, as if he had been suffocated. Anders recognized the marks however, as occurrences like this were common at the Tower of the Magi. Rope. The man had hanged himself.

Anders stared at it sadly for a moment, not knowing the reasons as to why the man had killed himself. Still, the screaming persisted, forcing Anders to look away. This was too brutal, yet these people expected him to deliver them from this desperate time? They wanted him to stop events like this? Suddenly the smiles they gave him seemed haunting, trapping. He had been freed of one burden only to be shackled by another.

The Grey Wardens may be just as much a prison as the tower was.

Anders looked to the road, considering his options. He could run now, ignore his duties and hope Darius was up to the task of defending Amaranthine with only Oghren and Nathaniel at his back, but... No. He couldn't. Anders hurried after Aiden, ignoring the screams.

He needed a purpose for his life. Being a Grey Warden could give that and more, and at least he wouldn't be a martyr for doing so.

Aiden led him to a barred door in the walls, where a couple of guards stood watch, making sure none of the refugees didn't get any ideas. Aiden nodded to the guards, who promptly unlatched the door, allowing the Captain and Anders to walk through.

Before entering Amaranthine, however, Anders stole one last look out into the refugee camp. A noble's carriage was pulling up to the portcullis. Anders could just barely see a pinched-face noble lady shout at a refugee to get away from her cart as the guards swiftly started raising the gates.

The refugees looked helplessly on as the noble drove through, then as the portcullis slammed shut behind her. She had the money and power to get what she wanted. These refugees didn't. The world was a cruel place, Anders thought. Maybe there was a way he could make it better?

Inside Amaranthine was no better than outside, though. Beggars lined the streets, tugging at the tailcoats of passing nobles in an attempt to get a silver or two. Invariably, none of the nobles so much as stopped, most of them kicking the beggars in the face as they passed. Such was life.

"I apologize that the city isn't in better condition for your arrival, Grey Warden." Aiden bowed to Anders. Still, the action seemed odd. Anders imagined it would take a long while for him to get used to the respect.

"I'm a Warden, but I'm still just a man." Anders glared at the noble lady from outside the keep as she passed in her carriage. "That woman is just a woman as well. Maybe you should tell your guards to treat people a bit more equally, Aiden, and not let those with money get whatever they please."

"But that's Lady Esmerelle!" Anders narrowed his eyes at the woman as her carriage rolled out of view. "I'm sorry sir, but she's the richest person in Amaranthine! She deserves the respect! This is her home!"

"And is it not the home of all those refugees outside?" Anders spit, walking away. "I'll return if I need any assistance, Constable. Thank you for letting me into the city."

"My pleasure, Warden. Anything for one such as you." Anders didn't respond, focusing instead on a crowd up ahead. They seemed to be crowding around a shop, where a red-faced man shouted, trying to maintain order. Likely they were selling food, or water, or some other precious resource.

Anders kept walking, heading the other way. Maybe he'd run into something by accident. Darius wasn't exactly clear in his orders of 'finding information'.

"Grand ser!" Anders turned, finding himself addressed by a blonde, older beggar who was laying against a wall. His legs were twisted in odd directions, likely they had healed wrong after some grievous injury. He probably couldn't even walk. "Could you spare the Queen of Antiva a few coins? My kingdom's run on some hard times."

"Queen of Antiva?" Anders looked at him curiously before approaching, kneeling in front of him. "If you were the Queen of Antiva wouldn't you have a dozen male and female whores surrounding you at all times?"

"Nay! My King," The beggar pointed at a pitchfork nearby. "can be quite jealous sometimes. I can only have one whore, but I have to raise the money to use her myself, see? That's why I'm here, instead of my castle. Isn't that right my King?" The man looked to the pitchfork briefly before locking eyes with Anders again. "See?"

"Here." Anders pulled out three sovereigns, in response to which the man's eyes glittered beyond compare. "Buy yourself a whore and a nice dinner, my friend. Be happy for once in your life."

"Thank you ser! May the Maker bequeath a fine, naked lass upon you!" Anders smiled, shaking the man's hand as he gave him the coins. Even insane beggars could be amusing.

"It's no problem." Anders got up, feeling just a little bit better. As he walked away, though, his spirits couldn't help by be dampened by the state of affairs around him. There was suffering here, fear, yet there were nobles eating fine breakfasts and planning Darius' downfall over wines and cheeses.

Anders remembered the night of the introduction to the nobles. More than one whispered of how an Orlesian ruling them was a hazard to King and Country, and a few even spoke of deposing him. When Anders told Darius of this, however, the Warden-Commander just nodded and thanked him. He didn't even seem worried.

The mage wandered northwards, still somewhat lost within his thoughts. He walked for around 15 minutes before realizing he had entered a quieter section of the city. The beggars had all but disappeared and soft music rolled to his ears from somewhere around him. A lively tavern stuck out from a larger building to his left, where the sounds of drinking and merry making could be heard. It almost brought a smile to his face, at least until he saw her.

So enraptured by the shockingly peaceful scenario was Anders that he didn't notice the elven lass until her was a few feet away. She lay on a thin fence, absentmindedly picking leaves from a conifer tree in a way only an agile elf could. Long blonde hair ran from her unbelievably pretty face, rolling over her shoulders in a surprisingly calming way. But Anders immediately tensed as the beautiful elf turned to him, serene face shifting to a more conflicted, then angered one. Slowly she slid off the fence, standing a mere foot from Anders.

"Anders." She stared at him, that same stare that always sent Anders knickers running for safer ground. It had been nearly a year, but she was just as beautiful as when he had last left her.

"Pleasure meeting you again, Namaya." Anders smiled, trying his best to hide his uncertainty. That probably wouldn't work. This elf could read him like a book no matter what he tried. "I see you, uh, survived the Blight."

"No thanks to you, _friend._" Namaya spit the last word out, causing Anders to flinch. Sure, they had been friends, and more, once, but that seemed to no longer be the case. Understandable, considering what had happened. There was nothing more sobering to a man than the angered face of a beautiful woman, especially one who has shared a bed with you.

"Come on, Namaya. You can't honestly expect me to be-" Anders stopped himself as Namaya's gaze narrowed. "All right. It was my fault, but that was almost a year ago!"

"I guess so..." Namaya sighed, deflating somewhat. You could count on a woman to be incredibly hard to read too, Anders thought. "Nobody could have guessed that would happen, though I never thought I'd see you again. What happened to Sketch? Did the templars... do anything to him?"

"I don't know..." Anders sighed, remembering the bookworm elf mage that had accompanied him and Namaya so long ago. "We had been so close to freedom. His and my phylacteries were so close..."

"I know where they are, though, Anders." Anders locked eyes with Namaya, surprised. Her beautiful features were serious, almost determined, as if meant in revenge for Sketch's fate. "The templars... they brought them here to Amaranthine to protect them from the Blight. They've been hidden in an abandoned warehouse. I've got a map, if you need it."

"You aren't coming with?" Anders saw her shaked her head as she pressed the map into his hands. They held their gaze for a long time before Namaya looked down and away.

"You should hurry, Anders." Namaya turned away, laying her hands on the fence. "Your freedom, and your revenge, is within your grasp. Finally, after so long, you can avenge Clarisse."

"It's been a long time since that day, Namaya." Anders looked up to the sky, remembering. "Even though we were all on the run, I was happy, and I know you were too."

"It's best we aren't seen together." Namaya turned back to Anders, looking up at him. She stepped close to him, before seemingly changing her mind about something. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Namaya." Anders backed away as the elf ran off, disappearing down a side alley. After taking a long look at the map, Anders took off in the opposite direction. He looked back only once and, overcome with memories, he felt tears rim his eyes.

Yes. Vengeance for Clarisse. Vengeance for Sketch. And, in a way, vengeance for Namaya.

And freedom.

ooo

Anders pushed open the door to the warehouse slowly, careful to make sure that there were no templars guarding the building. Oddly enough, there weren't. The mage slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

The warehouse was entirely empty, with only a door on the other side, likely leading to whatever chamber the phylacteries were in. Anders walked forward slowly, staff held before him, careful for traps.

But there were none. Anders reached the other side with no trouble, and he pushed the door open with his staff slowly. The room was dark, but seeing no immediate threat, he slipped inside.

As soon as he had moved through the door, however, it slammed shut behind him. Anders turned around, only to be blinded by a fierce light seeming to come from all around him. Anders backed against the door, squinting to try and understand what was going on. Fear clutched at him. There was a trap after all?

"Heh. You had eluded capture from me for so long, I almost thought that it would be harder to spring this trap." Ser Rylock stood a few feet away, her two templar cohorts on either side of her. "I guess I was wrong. You truly are an idiot."

"Rylock?" Anders felt anger grip him as the light faded. This was the woman that killed Clarisse, that destroyed whatever hope he had at leading a free life. "What do you mean, 'trap'? You've played this card before, I know that much. Likely this is just a chance meeting."

"Namaya would have something different to say about that." Anders froze, fear gripping him even more heavily. "She was quite the easy one to buy. Then again, she's also the least dangerous, since she was the only one of your group to not be a mage."

"Namaya? Buy?" Anders widened his eyes as realization started to set in. "You killed her sister! Why would she sell out to you? Stop lying, Rylock!"  
"I didn't care about her, and she knew that." Rylock smiled, drawing her sword. "You were a liability, and her sister died so long ago it didn't even matter anymore. People would eagerly turn on their supposed friends to serve their own purpose. Didn't you already know that?"

"Only people like you, Rylock." Anders spit, spinning his staff. This wasn't looking good. Namaya's treachery besides, he was trapped in a fairly small room with three templars and a lot of sharp objects. "You templars never resist to oppress us mages. You're always finding some way to hurt us to feed your sadistic, Maker-driven tendencies."

"You dare insult the Chantry!" Rylock's calm visage faded, replaced by sheer anger. "Even after all this time, you deny the one, true prophet! How dare you!"

"Religious fervor, huh? That's the reason you don't have any friends." Anders smirked as Rylock unhinged her shield. "Even if you kill me, I'll have accomplished more than you ever will in your life. I slept with a damned beautiful elf, after all, even if she did turn traitor. I, at least, know love. You only know violence."

"I love the Maker and Andraste. That's all I need." Rylock hissed, but Anders could tell he was getting to her. "And maybe after I kill you, I'll go find Namaya and execute her anyway. She was the accomplice to a maleficar, after all."

"You're so confident, Rylock." Anders pressed his back against the wall, scanning his surroundings for a way out. Rylock had planned this well, though. There wasn't a chance to get out of her. He'd have to fight, and killing three templars isn't easy.

"With good reason." Ser Rylock's calm demeanor was slowly returning. Good. That would delay the inevitable for just a little while, then.

"Ser Rylock, why do we waste time with him?" The templar with a greatsword asked. Anders looked at him curiously, as did Rylock. "Rather than talk to him, we should end his life already. The Maker demands that justice be done, so we should do it as quickly as possible."

"Silence, fool." Rylock snapped, causing the other templar to flinch. "I've pursued this man for too long to simply kill him. No. I will enjoy this. I will relish this. I will reward myself for my hard work."

"Just like you did with Clarisse? And Sketch?" Anders narrowed his eyes. "How cruel can you be? How insane does a templar need to be? Murdering my friend, taking away another, turning my former lover against me and killing me isn't enough? You have to torture me too?"

"Indeed." Ser Rylock approached, sword raised. "But I do grow bored of talk. I will destroy you, maleficar. Andraste turn Her gaze away from you, for you do not deserve Her love."

Anders raised his staff to block Rylock's first blow, but immediately felt the sting of an arrow graze his shoulder. From his position he couldn't see the third templar, but likely he was already nearing Anders, ready to support Rylock.

Rylock pressed her sword into Anders staff, her face growing near his. She was laughing, her face contorted in an insane smile. Disgusted, Anders tried to push her away, but found he wasn't strong enough. They built templars tough these days.

"This is the end of the line, mage!" Rylock shouted, laughing. "You will die just like Clarisse! Namaya will follow and once I track down Sketch, he'll join you three in hell!"

Anders finally pushed her off, knocking her back with a force-field. He wondered why there weren't any more arrows being fired at him, or why the other templar wasn't coming at him with his greatsword.

Not much time for that, however. Rylock swung at him, though Anders dodged under it, rolling behind her as the sword caught on the wood. As he stood, however, the other two templars were gone.

"Kill him!" Rylock shouted, struggling to free her blade. Finally, she pulled it out, turning to face Anders again. Anders backed away, reaching the end of the room. He stared in shock, however, at what he was seeing.

Behind crates and hidden from view from Rylock were the templars, torn to pieces by something. Anders scanned the room, but saw nothing. What the hell?

"Fine. I'll do it myself. Cowards." Rylock approached slowly, but Anders only lowered his staff as a dark shape rose behind her. "Andraste guide my blade. Maker preserve my soul. Anders, you will die."

"You call upon the Maker?" Anders heard from the dark shape. Rylock turned, only to be gripped by the neck by the shape as it materialized into a man. Blood-red eyes shined fiercely as the man threw Rylock into a wall, shattering a support beam. Her sword and shield clattered away, leaving her defenseless. "Foolish woman."

"You... who are you...?" Rylock coughed up blood, staring at the man with hate in her eyes. He didn't respond, simply raising his hand as a vicious blade materialized in it. "An abomination? But... that is impossible..."

Anders watched wordlessly as the blade came down, brutally cutting deep into Rylock's neck. He winced as the lethal wound forced blood out in a pulsating rhythm. She stared up at the red-eyed man hatefully before her vision went blank, her expression falling. In moments she was dead.

Rather than feel relief, however, Anders found himself even more scared. If this man – an abomination? – was eager to slaughter three templars, then wouldn't he be the same way towards Anders?

"I remember you." Anders said cautiously. The man turned to look at him, his expression blank. The jagged blade dripped with templar blood, running in dark rivulets down the length of the vicious thing. "Adrian, a mage. But... apparently not just that, huh?"

"Templars disgust me." Adrian said simply, glancing once at Rylock. "When they die, I feel satisfaction. Morality seemed to have left me when I became what I am, but I do not think I care."

Anders grimaced, unsure about this thing. He was obviously not in a proper mindset, quite possibly even insane, but what did that mean for Anders?

"Became what you are?" Anders pondered for a moment. He had seen an abomination before, but they were usually not ones to stop and talk. They usually didn't have a definite sense of self either, referring to themselves as separate from 'what they once were.' "What exactly are you?"

"I possessed a demon of Pride. I consumed an emotion." Adrian locked eyes with him, red eyes shimmering. "What I am now is still Adrian, but I find it difficult to act like a human does, like a human should. I live in a mutable state, though I am unsure why. I do not sleep. I do not dream. I do not think I even age. My thoughts are rapid, too varied to be cohesive. I use a blade forged of the Fade itself, The Keening Blade, though I cannot hear it any longer."

Anders felt himself grow worried. Obviously Adrian was insane. The rumors about him were true, then. At least every single one of them except him being dead. No wonder he turned Denerim into a battlefield.

"And... uh... how does that make you feel?" Anders ventured.

"I do not know." Adrian said simply, black cloak trailing around him. "I am slowly losing who I am, and I suspect the demon is not yet dead. I feel... her. I feel her everywhere. I feel the future. I see... things. Invasions. Golems of flesh and blood. I see the Dark Theurge, and know I must find it to save myself, but I know not where it lies."

Anders placed his staff in front of him. If he could run, he might make it... no. He couldn't. Abominations were faster, stronger and more ruthless than a human is. This was more terrifying than Rylock, it seemed.

"I must think. Be grateful that I had saved you, and not decided to destroy you." Adrian said simply, turning towards the opposite wall. He walked into a shadow, disappearing suddenly. Anders stared at where he was a moment before, breathing deeply as he slowly started to realize he was safe.

And yet there were three dead templars in front of him. Wonderful. Anders skirted around the pools of blood, intent on putting this warehouse far, far behind him.

ooo

As he emerged into the sunlight, Anders still could hardly believe what he had seen. He found himself wandering towards the main gates. Once there, he sat atop a box to collect his thoughts as he gazed at the refugees on the other side of the portcullis.

His vision trailed upwards, only for his eyes to be averted suddenly. A head sat atop the city walls, adorning a pike. Attached to the pike was a sign, which read "Arl Rendon Howe" and blow that "Traitor".

But was Rendon Howe truly evil? Anders wondered, trying his hardest to avoid looking at the rotting head. Or was he simply a victim of circumstance? Was the man a demon, or simply incredibly unlucky.

Was he really a traitor, or simply very unlucky?

* * *

_While I know Namaya isn't actually that pretty in the game itself, I made her so anyways. Sorry if that threw any of you off._


	10. False Imprisonment

_:D I got a chapter done early. Anyways, please review. Please criticize. Tell me what you think, seriously. What do you think is going to happen? What you want to happen? What you think about what has happened so far? You know, the whole shebang. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 9: False Imprisonment**

Fatigue glued him to the ground, yet Nathaniel found it wasn't simply tiredness that kept him from moving. There was a lack of will. He didn't want to move. Hopelessness tore at him. Why bother moving? Wasn't he dead anyway? It didn't matter where he was or what his chances of survival were, he just didn't want to move.

So he sat in the darkness, eyes closed. Hours seemed to pass by until he heard another sound, that of slow movement near him. The sound grew steadily closer until Nathaniel he could hear low, soft breathing. What did it matter? He was only-

"Wake up, Nathaniel!" Nathaniel felt a finger pry at his right eye, opening it. A low light greeted his eyes first, then a fuzzy, blonde form. "Imbecilic human, can't you see that the hopelessness is a spell?"

The fuzzy form started to come into being. It was... Velanna. He slowly opened his second eye, and suddenly the feelings of despair filtered away, replaced by curiosity.

"That was... odd." Nathaniel said, looking up at the elf mage. "Where are we, my lady?"

"In a cell, I think. Underground." Velanna said slowly, looking up. For a moment Nathaniel thought he saw worry in her eyes. "And don't call me 'my lady'. It's too human a term."

"My apologies, my lady." Nathaniel smirked, sitting up. He and Velanna were alone in the cell with a single candle mounted on the wall opposite the door. "Where are Darius and Oghren? Are they still alive?"

"I don't know..." Velanna shook her head. "When I woke up, I was here. That spell kept me pinned to the ground, unable to move or think. Whoever cast it was incredibly powerful..."

Nathaniel stood, scanning the surroundings. Velanna stood as well, though now she seemed to be considerably more at ease. Nathaniel smirked, finding it funny how the elf was trying to appear strong, even now.

"What are you smiling about, human?" Velanna snapped at him, suddenly angry. "This isn't the time to be thinking of something useless, which I know you humans love to do. Keep focused."

"Of course, my lady, but aren't you thinking unnecessarily?" Nathaniel mused, leaning against the bars as he struggled to see past the radius of the lone candle's light. Alas, it was to no avail. Blackness stretched out around him like a thick curtain, hindering any chance of examining the rest of the room.

"You think I'm scared, shem?" Velanna grabbed Nathaniel's shirt, turning him around. A shirt? The darkspawn changed him out of his armor? Nathaniel shuddered at the thought. At least he was immune to the taint.

"I said nothing of the sort, my lady." Nathaniel smirked again, satisfied by her reaction – ears flattened like an annoyed cat.

"Stop calling me that!" Velanna's eyes seemed to dilate, again like a cat. For a fearsome, magical, Dalish murdering elf she seemed awfully normal (if not short-tempered).

"Eventually, my lady." Nathaniel turned around again. He could hear Velanna huff behind him, apparently giving up. "We need to get out of here. Do you think your magic can help?

"No. It wouldn't." A new voice rang out in the darkness. Both Nathaniel and Velanna turned towards the source. A feminine, elven form slipped from the darkness, slender frame outfitted in darkened chainmail. She stopped mere feet from the door, wild blond hair falling over slim shoulders. She seemed normal except for her eyes, which were an odd, silvery white. Nathaniel stared at her in shock, enthralled by their unearthly appearance.

"Seranni!" Velanna gripped the bars. She seemed excited, though nervous. "What has happened to you? Where are we? Why are you here?"

"I'm sorry. I can't answer questions now. You need to escape." Seranni fumbled with a pouch hanging from her waist before pulling out a dark key. "The guards are coming soon and I can't be here when they arrive. If The Seeker or The Withered finds me here..."

Seranni handed the key to Velanna, who stared at her in shock. Velanna's sister backed away slowly, melting into the darkness. As soon as she disappeared, Velanna fumbled with the key, kicking the door open as soon as she had it open. She ran out of the cell, raising one arm, magically creating a large ball of light in her hand, illuminating the entire chamber.

But Seranni was gone.

"Velanna..." Nathaniel walked up behind her, unsure what to say. Seranni had looked like she had come into contact with the Blight sickness. There was no surviving once tainted, though. If she was infect, she would die.

Nathaniel felt himself shiver, a deep cold enveloping him. He turned immediately towards a door on the other side of the dungeon. It was open just a crack, though there was a glint of light between it.

"Get down!" Nathaniel shouted, diving at Velanna. She looked at him annoyed for a split second before he barreled into her, dragging her to the ground just as an arrow whisked by overhead. Nathaniel landed on top of Velanna, barely looking at her before he got up, dragging her to her feet and behind a cell wall. They were safe from arrows... for now.

"Get off me!" Velanna squirmed away from Nathaniel's grasp, backing away. Her expression was angry, threatened. "Don't assume that you can touch me simply because you want to, shem."

"Do you fail to understand that I just saved your life?" Nathaniel breathed out, exasperated. "It doesn't matter. There's darkspawn heading this way."

"Saved my life? I could have handled myself easily." Nathaniel ignored her, focusing instead on the sounds coming from around the corner. "Are you listening to me? Don't ever do that again!"

"Of course, my lady." Nathaniel responded absently, stepping out from the hiding spot at just the right moment, his forearm slamming into the face of a genlock as it ran past. The thing's feet went up into the air, its longsword and dagger clambering to the ground as Nathaniel's other elbow swung forward, slamming into the genlock's diaphragm. Stunned and on the ground, it squirmed as Nathaniel gathered its weapons before retreating back around the corner.

"Nathaniel!" Velanna shouted at him, though the man still ignored her, driving the sword into the fallen creature's heart. "Listen to me, shem!"

"I would if we weren't in mortal danger right now, my lady." Nathaniel tossed Velanna the dagger, peering around the corner. "Use that. There are more of them around the corner. Be careful."

"Nathaniel!" He didn't respond, dashing around the corner and rushing forward, sword leading. Just ahead a hurlock appeared through the door, flanked by a genlock. Luckily neither had a bow. Though where did the arrow come from...?

Nathaniel swung his blade, the strength behind it knocking the genlock's dagger low. Nathaniel kicked, forcing the thing to stagger backwards. The hurlock closed in, though Nathaniel saw Velanna throw the dagger at it from the corner of its eye. It arced through the air, flashing past Nathaniel and imbedding itself into the hurlock's throat. Tainted blood squirted onto Nathaniel as the darkspawn fell backwards. The genlock, surprised, let down its guard, allowing Nathaniel's to get through its defense. He buried his sword in its neck.

"That was easy." Nathaniel smiled as Velanna stalked towards him, annoyed. "I'll bet my father's memory that future fights will be quite a bit more difficult, though. Let's go, my lady."

Velanna sighed, but followed after Nathaniel anyway as he rushed up the stairs behind the door. They emerged into a large room where books, notes and strange mechanical contraptions filled the area. Nathaniel turned as he heard a bark. A cage lay at the other side of the library-like room, in which Tez clung to the bars, wagging his tail happily.

"The Grey One is here?" Velanna muttered as Nathaniel walked towards the cage. Once there he swung his sword, smashing open the lock. Tez jumped out of the now open cage, rubbing Nathaniel's leg once in thanks before bounding over to a chest.

"What is it, boy?" Nathaniel walked over to him as the Tez bit at the wood, his teeth shattering a chain that bound the thing closed. The chest swung open, revealing a set of leather armor and a small sheet of paper. Nathaniel took the leather armor, putting it on over his clothes slowly, satisfied that it seemed to fit. He looked over Velanna, unarmed and unarmored as she was, though she said nothing. She bent over, picking the paper up from the bottom.

"'What happens if the Old Gods perish? Does the song die with them?'" Velanna read shakily. "This was written... by a darkspawn? Just how intelligent have they become?"

Nathaniel said nothing as he finished strapping up the leather armor. Velanna kept looking over the paper, shocked by what she was reading.

"'The blood is the key. The blood is always the key.'" Velanna read, eyes skirting side to side. "'The female elf is accommodating, allowing me to take her blood for my work. Perhaps she thinks I'll release her if she cooperates.' Is it referring to Seranni?"

"Maybe you shouldn't read that, Velanna." Nathaniel cautioned, stretching one arm to fit the armor more comfortably. He sheathed the darkspawn sword in a scabbard he found lying nearby. The color of the armor was odd, as if the leather was tainted. Whatever it was, it felt stronger than normal leather.  
"'My disciples report that another elf is rampaging through the woods, killing humans. Revenge for what we did to her kind, only she hasn't seen through the Seeker's ruse.'" Velanna gulped as she read. "'We'll keep this from Seranni. If she is upset, she may stop cooperating.'"

"Velanna!" Nathaniel turned to her, snatching the paper out of her hand. "If a darkspawn did write this, it can't be anything more than insane rambling. Forget about it. We need to find a way out of here."

"Yeah... perhaps." Nathaniel started back down the stairs, dropping the paper as he led Velanna along. Tez bounded along behind them. As the paper alighted upon the ground, the last sentence on the page showed itself, unfurling from a crease in the paper. The inked letters showed themselves to no one and their warning would go unrecognized.

"Perhaps I should have killed it while it slept."

ooo

"This way, Velanna!" Nathaniel called. The elf appeared around the corner, gripping the darkspawn staff hard enough her knuckles had turned white.

Nathaniel shouldered the bow that he had found on a genlock, drawing his sword as he walked into the next room. Tez ran ahead, sniffing the air. It backed away once it reached halfway across the room, however. Tez growled as a shape appeared in the darkness, a staff gripped in its hands. Its head was hung low and it kicked at loose stones on the ground.

"Oh. Wonderful. MORE VISITORS!" The shape yelled, slamming the staff into the ground. Nathaniel nocked an arrow, aiming directly at the figure's head. Elf ears could just barely be seen under the mess of ratty hair on his head. "The Architect keeps telling me to prepare, prepare, WELL? PREPARE FOR WHAT! Why do _I _have to do all the work...?"

"Who are you?" Nathaniel shouted, releasing one arrow. It impacted the wall inches to the right of the man's head. He looked up, revealing a face marked with blight plague.

"I'm Experimental Subject Number 2. Why wouldn't you know that? Everyone knows that. Even The Seeker knows that." The elf ghoul ground his staff into the ground, staring at Nathaniel. "And you? Oh. You're here to kill me, aren't you? You're always here to kill me. But I'll get you this time. I've been practicing, see? Last time I got you, the time before I got you, so I'll get you this time too!"

The ghoul jumped forward, impossibly fast. Nathaniel reacted just in time to launch an arrow. It impacted the ghoul in the middle of the head, flipping it as the thing instantly died, killing its momentum at the same moment. The body flopped to the ground mere feet from Nathaniel, staff sliding out of its fingers.

"What in the Creators?" Velanna gasped, examining the corpse. "What is this thing? Why was it mumbling such insane things?"

"A ghoul." Nathaniel said simply, stepping around the growing pool of blood. "It's best to kill them first and ask questions later, though I've never seen one talk."

Velanna shuddered but said nothing as she stepped around the blood. Before Nathaniel could speak again though, a shout rang out in the room. Nathaniel immediately ran towards it, followed quickly by Tez and Velanna.

He headed through the opposite side's tunnel, eventually emerging into another large room, though this one was more even in shape. A man Nathaniel had never seen before shouted again, driving a sword into a Hurlock Alpha. Blood spurted out of the wound as the Alpha toppled over, its maul slipping from its grip.

"That's right, beastie. Die like you're supposed to." The man stood, drawing his blade from the corpse of the Alpha. He backed away before turning. He pivoted on his dominant leg inches from Nathaniel, and as he stopped, he faced the young Howe directly. "Oh damn! You don't look infected. Where'd you come from?"

The man seemed a bit older than Nathaniel, likely in his late thirties or early forties. His head was covered in a neat, black flat top, though that stood in start contrast to the rest of him. He was dressed in leather armor stained in blood, though the lack of lacerations made Nathaniel think that it wasn't the main's injuries that created the blood.

"I could ask you the same thing." Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow as the man backed away, extending his hand. "I am Nathaniel Howe, a Grey Warden who was conscripted by Darius Caron. I currently serve him without having a choice otherwise."

"Darius Caron?" The man looked thoughtful as Nathaniel shook his hand. "I remember that name from a long time ago. He was at my joining, the bastard. Quite the ladies man, if I remember correctly. I'm Keenan, by the way. I was stationed at Vigil's Keep before I was captured and taken here. Just now I managed to escape, though that Alpha gave me quite the run for my money."

"A ladies man? Darius seems anything but." Nathaniel thought it was impossible for him to cock his eyebrow even more so, but he did. "He's incredibly serious and stalwart, far from flirtatious."

"Doesn't sound like the Darius I know." Keenan grinned. "Before we argue about the demeanor of an absentee friend, we've best get out of here. Grab the lass and hurry up. I think I know a way out, considering how I got in."

Nathaniel followed after Keenan as the man ran off, sword drawn. Velanna wordless trailed him, Tez at her heels. They ran through a hole in a wall on the other side of the cavern, again following a tunnel. After a few moments of running, they emerged into yet another cavern, though Keenan stopped suddenly, Nathaniel narrowing his eyes and cursing as he stopped as well.

"What have we here? Escaped prisoners?" A ghoul of something that used to be a human female stood in front of them, flanked by a Hurlock Alpha and an Emissary. The ghoul's head was cocked at an odd angle, a thin smile on its lips. "I was told what I could do to escaped prisoners. Oh yes. Number 1 knows her duties well. I'm gonna cut you. I'm gonna eat you. I'm gonna burn you. I'm gonna do ALL SORTS OF THINGS TO YOU!"

The ghoul crouched, mouth opening impossibly wide as it shrieked. Nathaniel clamped his hands over his ears in pain, though Keenan barely flinched. Tez was unharmed, immediately charging at the creature. As it flung itself on the ghoul's throat, the screaming cut off suddenly, allowing Nathaniel to regain his bearings. After a moment's struggle, the ghoul flung the deepstalker away.

The Emissary was charging straight for him, but Nathaniel released his arrow, striking the darkspawn in the arm. It hissed, raising one arm to cast a spell, but a second arrow caught in its throat, felling the creature. Nathaniel turned just as Keenan decapitated the Alpha, now setting his sights on Number 1.

"I'll cut you... I'll cut ALL OF YOU!" Number 1 yelled, waving a longsword in front of her. Keenan charged, sidestepping as Number 1 stabbed forward. He swung downwards at the blade, forcing it out of Number 1's hands. Keenan followed through with an elbow to Number 1's face, which knocked the ghoul back, rotten teeth sent flying.

Nathaniel recoiled in shock as roots sprung from the ground, skewering Number 1 in multiple areas. The ghoul shuddered for a few moments, whispering torturous and sadistic fantasies before finally dying.

"Maker's breath..." Keenan bent over, picking up a small glass vial that had fallen from Number 4. "I never thought I'd ever see a ghoul talk. My trip here's been nothing but strange. Talking darkspawn galore, insane ghouls. All the stuff of nightmares, it seems."

"More reason to escape quickly." Velanna said, pointing down to the opening at the end of the hall. "I feel movement from down that way. Perhaps we should avoid it?"

"No, elf." Keenan smiled, placing his sword in front of him. "That's the beauty about being a Warden. We got this urge, see? An urge to end the lives of these blighted bastards. I'm gonna kill as many of them as possible before escaping this place."

And Keenan ran off. Nathaniel followed, with Tez running at his heels. He had to admit he felt that urge too, despite everything. There was a certain joy in slaughtering these creatures, even if they weren't entirely mindless. But still, he felt as if he was killing a part of himself every time he struck down a darkspawn.

But likely that was just the taint within him. Hopefully, in time, it would fade.

Nathaniel found himself growing tired, weary of the events in the mine. Why was he even here? He should have been halfway to the Free Marches again with his family's artifacts safe and intact. Now that he was a Warden, he should have just taken advantage of that and slain Oghren, then fled.

Yet here he was, some undisclosed distance underground with a dangerous and unpredictable elf, and Keenan, who seemed fairly eager for battle. Tez, the silent deepstalker, was probably the best companion he had at the moment.

But where was Darius? Nathaniel wondered as he kept running down the tunnels, bow held at ready. Where was Oghren? Why would the Architect separate the two senior Wardens but leave Nathaniel and Velanna together? And why did he put Tez in a cage far from either group?

His thoughts were cut short as they emerged into a small chamber, where a large egg was held on a pedestal. A female dwarf knelt in front of it, praying. As Keenan neared the dwarf, it stood, turning slowly. The dark markings on its face revealed it to be a ghoul, likely just as insane as the rest.

"The Egg likes talking, that it does. I like listening when the Egg talks. It's so soothing and calm..." The ghoul looked up at them. Although it was outfitted with dark, Legion of the Dead armor and a greataxe, it didn't seem threatening. "It tells me lots of things. Stories of sunshine of beauty. Of happiness and joy. Of a song I can't hear anymore. I miss that song... I wish... it was still here."

"Tell that damned fool dwarf to let me outta this blighted cage!" Nathaniel turned towards the wall, where a familiar shape was rattling the cage angrily, fiery hair and eyes displaying a easily recognized bloodlust. "She touched my sodding junk! Nobody that ugly is allowed to touch my junk!"

"The Egg wants you to be quiet, fool!" The ghoul snapped. "The Egg has visitors... Number 4 must tend to them."

Nathaniel's arrow caught Number 4 in the shoulder, spinning it around. It fell backwards, knocking into the stand holding the egg. The egg fell off the stand but, surprisingly, didn't shatter when it hit the ground.

"You've... hurt the Egg." The ghoul looked at the fallen egg with genuine sadness on its face. "I... my purpose is no more. The Egg no longer speaks. Why does it no longer speak...? I feel so empty now... So cold..."

Keenan walked up behind Number 4, swiftly decapitating the ghoul as it wept on the ground. For whatever reason, Nathaniel found the action oddly heartless, though he had killed ghouls before.

Immediately, as if killing the ghoul had no effect on him, Keenan knelt over the egg, poking a hole in the side and letting the clear liquid from inside run inside the vial he had picked up from Number 1's corpse.

"It's a dragon egg." Keenan explained as the vial filled. A soon as it reached the top, he placed a stopper on the end, then pocketed it. "The contents can be quite useful, if applied in the right circumstances."

"How dare you!" Velanna shouted, stepped towards Keenan. He merely looked at curiously, not even shocked at her outburst. "Such blatant disregard for nature! That dragon egg could still be alive, yet you'd kill it because you think the liquid inside might be useful? You damned poacher!"

"Don't judge me for murder of a dragon, elf." Keenan narrowed his eyes threateningly. "I wasn't the one who killed dozens of innocent men to satiate a foolish revenge."

"How do you..." Velanna stared at him shocked. If Nathaniel wasn't mistaken, this was a conflicted Velanna. She says she didn't care about the deaths of the humans, but that didn't seem to be the case, judging by her reaction.

"Sodding let me down, you damned fools!" Nathaniel sighed, turning towards the redhead dwarf. He approached Oghren, his hands deftly unlocking the cage after a few moments of tinkering with the lock. Oghren kicked the door out, jumping from the cage towards Number 4's body, where he got to work stripping it of its armor and axe.

"Hehe. It's naked underneath." Oghren muttered, strapping on his armor.

"Heaven forbid, Oghren, that you can ever resist making a sexual comment." Nathaniel rolled his eyes. After Oghren was done, Keenan extended a hand towards the dwarf, a smile on his face. How the man could meet such a revolting man and still smile was beyond Nathaniel.

"I am Keenan Jader of Orlais. I've heard of you, Oghren." Keenan smiled as Oghren took his hand, belching as he shook it. "Tales of your prowess in both battle and bed have bled through even to distant Orlais, and if my senses are right, I can tell you've even survived the Joining and become a Warden! I'm honored to fight at your side."

"I like you already." Oghren smiled, placing his axe on his back as he unclenched Keenan's hand. "A nice sodding change to be appreciated for my efforts for once, considering all the bleeding work I do in the order. I can kill a thousand darkspawn a day if I can put my ass in it."

"A thousand? Really?" Keenan smiled. "Well, why don't we have a competition? Count the darkspawn we kill, you know? I'll bet you a barrel of fine ale I can win."

"Bet taken, human!" Oghren laughed, or belched. It sounded similar. "You're gonna regret it, human!"

"Maker's breath..." Nathaniel sighed, turning away. "Just what we need."

ooo

"21!" Nathaniel heard Keenan shout, as the other Warden ran an emissary through. Oghren growled, jumping onto a genlock, burying his axe deep in the darkspawn's head.

"24!" Oghren shouted gleefully. "You're falling behind!"

But now there were none left, Nathaniel realized as he lowered his bow. They had cornered these darkspawn at the end of the corridor, but the dead end wasn't the first they had come across.

Over the course of the last hour they had encountered numerous darkspawn, though no more talking ghouls, and many, many dead ends. Nathaniel felt weariness in his bones. He just wanted out, but it seemed every turn was just another hopeless wall.

"Sod it all." Oghren kicked the wall, shouldering his axe. Above him on the wall a two-headed skeleton was mounted on a steel cross. The heads sticking out unevenly from a single neck, each one with a grotesque smile. "As pleasant as this blighted place is, I'm getting sodding tired of it."

"Well, maybe we missed something." Nathaniel suggested, looking down the tunnel. "If we double back and keep searching..."

"How many times have we done that already, Nathaniel?" Velanna snapped, leaning on her staff. "We might just be trapped down here."

"Blighted..." Oghren mumbled, before roaring. He raised his axe, crashing it down on the wall, where it split one of the two heads in half. As he withdrew the axe, the two halves of the skull fell dangled for a moment before falling to the ground. The unharmed skull suddenly snapped into place and screeching started echoing around the hallway. Dust started falling, setting off alarm bells in Nathaniel's head.

"Cave-in!" Nathaniel shouted. Keenan flattened himself against the ground, dragging Oghren down with him. Nathaniel dived for Velanna, forcing her underneath him with the intent of using his body to protect her from harm. He put his hands over his head as the shaking grew more violent and more dust kept falling.

Velanna squirmed in protest under him, but Nathaniel held her firmly. Eventually the shaking stopped and the dust started to clear. Oddly enough, Nathaniel could feel a breeze.

He looked up slowly, only to find that there was no cave in. The wall had parted, revealing a passageway. If there was wind, then that meant there was an exit!

"Get off me, shem!" Velanna pushed him off her, forcing Nathaniel to stand. He brushed off his armor and coughed as he breathed in dust. Velanna stood as well, eying him evilly.

"I only did what I thought was necessary to protect you, my lady." Nathaniel said, walking towards the parted wall as Keenan and Oghren started to stand.

"Stop calling me that!" Velanna protested, but Nathaniel remained silent.

The group walked for a few minutes, surprised by the linearity of the hallway. They moved silently, constantly on the lookout for darkspawn, and Nathaniel noticed himself holding his breath on multiple occasions.

"Wait!" Keenan stopped holding up a hand. A corner was up ahead and the Warden inched towards it slowly, his ear pressed near the wall. "I can hear speaking."

"Really?" Nathaniel ran towards him, stopping suddenly as he recognized the voice.

"– evil is subjective, Architect. You can't expect me to believe you." It was Darius' voice. Nathaniel rushed around the corner, followed by Keenan, Oghren, Velanna and Tez. A large arena like room greeted him. Darius stood in the center, talking to a robed form standing atop a balcony on the other side. Tez barked happily, running up to Darius' side.

"It seems we must cut this conversation short, Commander." The purple form said, its voice just above a rasp. Nathaniel ran up to Darius, who was outfitted in a set of pitch-black leather, two darkspawn scimitars in his hands.

"Warden-Commander!" Keenan ran to Darius, who cocked an eyebrow at him. "It's a pleasure seeing you again! I had feared the worst!"

"Keenan? You look well." Darius said simply, before turning back to the robed form. "Let us go, Architect. If you fight us, you will die. I'm certain you are aware of this. Wardens do not fall to darkspawn easily."

"Seranni!" Velanna shouted, noticing the elven form by the purple robed figure. "Seranni! Are you hurt? Why are you with him?"

The elf didn't respond, simply looking away. Nathaniel felt his heart clench as Velanna shouted again up at her sister, not yet realizing that Seranni had sided against her.

"Come down from there, Seranni!" Velanna shouted. Nathaniel lay a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"Goodbye, Grey Wardens. I will leave The Withered with you. Perhaps we'll meet again." The Architect turned away, leading Seranni and a short dwarven figure through a tunnel before he rose into the air, magic escaping from his fingertips. The white bolts arced into the walls as rocks tumbled down, blocking the passageway.

"Seranni!" Velanna shouted again, tears rimming her eyes. Nathaniel again placed his hand on her shoulder. This time she didn't flinch away.

"The Withered grows tired of elven wailing and talking." Darius snapped his head in the direction the new voice came from. The Withered emerged from the darkness, purple and grey armor shining in the candlelight of the camber. Two large, black creatures crawled after him, red eyes shining. They looked just like deepstalkers except much bigger and... tainted.

"The Withered..." Darius spit, drawing his swords. "I'm eager to finally kill you for what happened at the Vigil."

"The Warden-Commander may try," The Withered laughed, deep and guttural as he drew his own sword and shield. "But you will fail."

* * *

_Note: Keenan is not a character I made up. He's actually the guy that your Warden meets when in the Silverite Mines. In the game, however, his legs are crushed and he dies after you talk to him. I decided to change history just a little bit to avoid that. ;P Basically, the Alpha with the maul that Keenan kills right when he's first seen in this story is the Hurlock Dragon-Tamer that you have to kill in-game to get Keenan's wedding ring. Just thought that might be interesting._


End file.
